


Follies of Fate

by GiasSoul (Syrenthia)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrenthia/pseuds/GiasSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the course of my life I've met the Batman close to a hundred times, and I guess this is what comes from being associated with the vigilante king. Paranoia…Possibly insanity…But for now just Paranoia. My current professional title is meat shield, bargaining chip and hostage extraordinaire and in case you were curious, no, it hasn't always been like this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little dabble of mine that I wrote as an attempt to get better at character development. I would appreciate any comments or feedback anyone is kind enough to give me.

Over the course of my life I've met the Batman probably close to a hundred times. Although many were only passing glances, so I suppose they wouldn't really count as 'meeting' him. Actually if I think about it, cobbling together all the conversations we'd had and everything I know about him we would probably fit into the category of 'passing acquaintance'. Despite this, ever since our first real encounter I've found myself subject to being a hostage, a meat shield or an escape plan.

Fun.

When this first started I was 21. I thought it was just bad luck. The 'wrong place at the wrong time' mentality, as it were. But over the years my bad luck seemed to stick to me and eventually most Supervillains and Superhero's in Gotham knew my face, if not my name.

I'm kind of like the Lois Lane of Gotham, in a dark and less exciting kind of way. You know Lois Lane right? The reporter from Metropolitan City who is always being saved by Superman? That's the one. Except I'm camera shy, I consider miniskirts impractical and I don't openly go looking to put myself in trouble. It just kind of finds me and hits me so hard I'm left gobsmacked and dazed.

Plus there's the whole Superman/Lois Lane romance going on that certainly doesn't match the parallel between the Lois and I. So maybe I'm less Lois Lane and more...well, me.

My name is Kate Strider. I'm now 25 years old, and I'm currently locked up in a small cellar type room in which I can only presume is Joker's newest lair. The laughing electric door knob tipped me off though other than that I hadn't seen or heard anything from the clown.

Right now I'm waiting (uncomfortably) for an opening to get out of here, trying to plan an escape that doesn't involve me sitting around so the Batman can come swoop in and save the day.

It would be a whole lot easier if the stupid Harlequin of Hate hadn't taken everything useful away from me. My hair pins, my handbag, my specially made shoes with the knives hidden in the heels. The mace bottle disguised as a bracelet my mother brought me for my birthday. Hell, he even took my belt, and I think he was going to remove my clothes if Harley Quinn hadn't thrown him out and declared him a cheating shmuck for even considering it.

Thinking about all the little dangerous things I have strapped or built into my clothing makes me feel paranoid, but I guess that's what comes from being associated with the vigilante king for near on five years.

Paranoia.

Possibly insanity.

But for now just paranoia.

I wasn't always paranoid. The first time I met Batman, (as in more than a passing glance) was on the night of my 21st birthday. My boyfriend at the time, Mark, had taken me to the Iceberg Lounge for dinner. It was all very romantic...

* * *

  
**Near on Five Years Ago...**

"You look beautiful, Kate." I smiled pleasantly at Mark and flicked my hair a little. I felt beautiful in my new blue lace dress. I felt stunning and slim and sexy. I knew I wasn't all of these things, but this dress just made me feel it.

I'd found it coming home from work in a little vintage store I'd never noticed before, and loved it on sight. Of course, it was way out of my price range, but after a fair amount of begging, and a large (most of my paycheck for the week) deposit, the shop owner had agreed to hold it for me until I paid it all off.

It was a remnant of the 50's style in all its glory. It was cut high in the front, dipped into a 'V' at the back, and had an impossibly pinched waistline that made it hard to breathe. But I didn't care, because when I twirled in it is fanned out from my knees and it made my usually flat hair seem shiny and perky. It made my eyes brighter and my step lighter, and when we had walked into the Iceberg Lounge, surrounded by socialites, I didn't feel out of place at all.

"Thank you, Mark, you scrub up pretty well yourself." He grinned proudly at me and unconsciously smoothed down his hair with his free hand. The other hand was occupied with dessert. Chocolate Pie.

The best chocolate pie I'll ever eat in all my life. In my new blue lace dress.

Mark's grin didn't subside as he put down his fork and went to refill my empty champagne glass. I'd had quite a lot of champagne tonight, more than I usually drank. But I didn't really mind the warm feeling growing steadily through my chest, because it was my birthday and I'd probably never come here again unless I married into a rich family or won the lottery.

Mark didn't get far in refilling my glass. He poured the few drops still left in the bottle into the delicate flute and frowned.

"That went fast." He said solemnly, putting the bottle down and continuing to frown at it. I felt a trill of concern run through me; He raised his hand to summon the waitress for another bottle.

"That's ok." I grabbed his hand before he was noticed by the scantily clad servers and smiled. "I think I've had enough anyway." Mark chuckled and squeezed my fingers tenderly.

"It's ok, Katie. I told you already, I've got this." He proved it by releasing my hand and catching a passing waitress by the arm, motioning to the empty champagne bottle. She smiled and nodded politely before tottering off on her far-too-high heels.

I couldn't fathom for the life of me how Mark was paying for all this. He was earning less than I was, and I wasn't earning much. On top of that, I knew from the in-house gossip at work that you had to book at least a year in advance to get a table here (unless you knew who's palms to grease) and Mark and I had only been dating 8 or so months.

Marks big brown eyes slid back to me across the table and he took my hand in his, distracting me from my pondering and concern. Mark had a way of doing that to me. He was my first love; sweet and kind and with an electric touch that made my heart dance and my stomach tighten.

"Katie…" He paused, and for a moment I thought he was about to ask me to marry him, until he lifted a forkful of chocolate pie to my lips and raised an eyebrow "Are you going to help me eat this?" I laughed and ate the offered dessert as delicately as I could, trying not to giggle manically through the chocolate mousse coating my lips.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this a pretty picture! Such a lovely couple!"

I jumped and choked a little on my pie as a bottle of champagne was thrust down on the table between Mark and myself. I covered my mouth and looked away, attempting to clear off my chocolate covered lips before I turned back to talk to whoever it was who had brought the newest bottle.

As I turned my head, I faintly caught the gobstruck and slightly petrified look on Marks face as he stared up at the wait staff. I wondered for a split second why he looked so scared before I turned fully to the man looming over out table and understood completely.

Anyone who had seen a newspaper or watched TV in Gotham city knew the man before us. In a single moment, his beetle-black eyes, sunken in his head like a dead man's, brought me back to childhood fears of monsters hidden under my bed. He was grinning down at us, his horrid yellow smile rimmed with uneven red that stood out against his bleached white skin. I wanted to scream but something deep down in me cut me off short and seized my breath before it reached my throat.

Standing before us, was the one and only Harlequin of Hate himself. And I had never been more terrified.

"…J…Jok…Jok." Mark was stuttering, his hand still poised halfway across the table with a now empty fork. I could see his arm trembling out of the corner of my eye.

"J…J…J…JOKER! That's right buddy boy! Give the man a prize." Joker slapped a hand down hard on Marks shoulder before propping himself on the edge of Marks chair. "You're detective skills are mar-vel-ous! Say…you wouldn't by chance be…" He lent down as his sentence trailed off, drawing in close to Marks ear. There was a dramatic pause as the Joker twisted his head this way and that, over exaggerating his movements as he looked for anyone listening in…and then: "BATMAN!" Mark jumped and yelped as the Joker screamed into his face before twirling back from his chair, cackling hysterically.

I held my breath as he twirled, praying selfishly that he was done with our table and would be moving on. My prayers went unanswered, and his sickening empty eyes dropped to me.

"Well hhheeelllooo." He grinned and stopped spinning, coming to lean over me instead. "What have we got here? Nicely done, nicely done buddy boy!" He thrust a thumbs up to Mark without looking at him, then paused and stepped back, crossing his arms and tapping his chin with his index finger. "Though you could really have done better with the jewels! She's only hostage material without any diamonds sonny-jim." Mark sucked in a breath, and I just stared, frozen as he assessed me. He was leaning back on his heels when he spoke next, his hands making a frame for my face as he 'hmmed' to himself. "But! She would make an EXCELLENT hostage!" He started cackling again.

"What is the meaning of this?"

I jumped as another voice cut through Jokers cackling and turned as much as my fear would allow to look at the newcomer. It was another face I recognized immediately. Penguin. Or Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

"Pengy! How nice of you to show you pointed nose tonight!" The Joker crowed and danced over to Mr. Cobblepot, holding out a hand for Penguin to shake…He didn't shake it. This only proved to make the Joker cackle some more and slide his once outstretched hand through his hair. "Too slow!"

"Mr. Joker, we had an agreement! You gave me your word you would not come here!"

I was transfixed on the exchange all the way up until I noticed a burly man with a painted face forcibly removing a woman's necklace at a nearby table. I let out a woosh of breath as the same man happily relieved the woman's companion of his wallet, watch and cufflinks. A robbery?

This was a robbery?

Well duh Kate. Why else would the Joker be here? To ruin your night?

"Ah yes. I remember that little chat we had! But that was before you double crossed me…"

I snapped back to the conversation happening before me when the Jokers light tone suddenly dropped an octave and became a menacing growl. The sound made me shiver. His voice suddenly just sounded like dark, angry noise. "You sold me out…put a knife in my back…made me ANGRY!" I jumped as he roared over the mulled noise of the other guests.

I suddenly noticed how quiet everyone was being, how there was no screaming or yelling or pleas…just soft, tense whispering as people handed over their jewelry and wallets at gun point. Did the Joker really make everyone here that scared? I knew I was terrified…but everyone?

As the Joker seethed over an obviously pissed off Mr. Cobblepot I knew I didn't need an answer. Yes, he scared everyone in this restaurant. Scared them all enough to just do as they were told. The tension in the giant hall grew steadily as the Joker and the Penguin faced off before me. And then it was garishly sliced by the Jokers trademark cackle.

"And…I'm broke! This is the last place Batsy boy would think I'd rob, so it's the perfect place for me to be!" He giggled happily and tapped Penguins shoulder "You know what they say…"

"There's no honor among thieves." A new voice chimed into the conversation. Deeper, dark and gravely and hard. The voice made the Joker freeze, made his grin falter for a split second before it plastered itself tightly back onto his face.

The next few moments were a blur, and when they were over I was dizzy, my forehead was searing painfully and all I knew was I was standing up and something very cold, and very wet was dripping down over my dress.

"Nice to see you Bats!" Jokers voice was so close to my ear the noise sliced at me like a knife and made my head ache. He had me pinned against his chest, his right arm strapped painfully across my collarbones as his left waved something about in front of him. I looked up, catching his mad grin as he gnashed his teeth. Then I blinked, confused as something warm trickled down over my eyebrow and caught in my eyelashes.

"Sorry I'm late."

I looked forward, trying to orientate myself to the voice that had just spoken. The same guttural sound as before. When my eyes landed on the source of the voice, any air left in my lungs literally gushed out in a sort of 'eep'. If I had been more aware, I would have been ashamed at myself for such a noise.

Standing before me, somehow seeming to blend into no existent shadows, was the Dark Knight himself. I'd never seen him up close, but I'd admit I'd fantasized about him a fair bit (what girl hadn't?). Suddenly all my fantasies seemed stupid and whimsical though. The man before me was huge, over 6 foot, with massively broad shoulders. His black cape encompassed him, and I suddenly understood the fear he induced in people as he stared forward at me with those glassed out invisible eyes. He was all black, and shadow, the only hint of his humanity was the angry set line of his jaw, peeking out from his cowl.

"Oh well! Better late than never! Though with you Batsy…I would prefer never." The Jokers voice was growling into my ear, and he swung the thing in his left hand around menacingly. I took this moment to realize exactly what that thing was…it was a broken champagne bottle. The one he had brought to the table when he first announced his arrival.

The once full champagne bottle.

Which was now broken…and sharp…and empty.

The wet feeling seeping through my dress came back to me. The Joker must have smashed the bottle on the table when he grabbed me…leaving the fizzy, sticky substance to soak my dress. My new, perfect, blue lace dress.

Did he know what champagne would do to immaculately kept, superbly looked after 30 something year old lace? It would destroy it, that's what it would do!

I was foggy headed from champagne and god knows what else, and all I could think for one crazy, delusional second was:

You bastard.

So, I picked up my foot, bent my head as far forward as I could, and slammed my stiletto heel into his pointy clown shoe.

That made him scream.

And while he was screaming, I snapped my head back up towards his face. The resulting impact hurt.

But by the sickening 'crunch' and resulting high pitched squeal, I could only assume it hurt him a shit load more than it hurt me.

His arm snapped away from me and I stumbled forwards into the waiting grip of Batman, faintly noticing there was something warm and wet now trickling down my back as well as into my eyelashes. I was gently let down in under a second and Batman had the Joker on the ground and cuffed before I could turn and watch the whole thing end.

Everything got a little blurry for a while after that, I recognized the police uniforms streaming in, and faintly noted someone was carrying me at some point. Someone with pointy ears and only half a human face. The next thing I knew I was being loaded into an ambulance with a panicked Mark staring down at me. He kept saying something over and over again. It took me a while to click with what it was.

"Why did you do that?"

I frowned up at him and slurred an indignant answer.

"He ruined my dress."

* * *

  
Turned out the warm sticky stuff trickling into my eyelashes was my own blood. The Joker had slammed my head into the table before he grabbed me, using enough force to split the skin around my eyebrow and leave a nice little scar. I got my own back though, because the stuff running down my back was the Jokers blood, from his hopelessly broken nose. It never did set back quite right. Thinking about it, if I could go back in time I would have demanded someone tell me if the Joker bled red or if it ran green and slimy like the clown himself.

But I was semiconscious for a lot of the proceeding havoc, so I never got a chance.

The door of the windowless room I was sitting in snapped open with a dramatic thud and I looked up, shaken from my memories. I heaved a sigh as purple suited clown jigged through the doorway and grinned at me through his parted red lips.

I wasn't scared of his face anymore. The shock factor wore off after a while and he just started looking like an idiot with too much face paint on. Though I never really got over his eyes, those dark black orbs that shrunk into his head and peered out at you madly.

"Kate, Kate, Katie! Baby doll! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hello Joker. I was just thinking about you." I smiled nastily back at him as he cooed at me, forcing myself to stand from the cross legged position I'd been stooped in. Joker pulled his hands to his heart dramatically and swooned.

"About little old me? Why Katie, who knew you cared."

I shrugged, rubbing the sore spots on my wrists where the metal cuffs had started to bite.

"You remember my blue lace dress don't you?"

The Joker crossed his arms and tapped his index finger to his chin; a pose I had learnt was his 'thinking' pose. It took a minute of baited silence before he clicked his fingers and called 'uh-huh!' to the empty room.

"The night we first met! You know I never did care for you in blue." He slinked closer and bent so I could feel his breath puffing out over my face "I think you'd look better in…" Her grabbed my chin and stepped back a little, turning my face roughly from side to side. "Purple." He finally declared.

"Really?" He grinned and came back in close, so his face was barley inches from mine as I bit out my response. "…I hate purple."

The Joker threw his head back and burst out with his insane cackle. It echoed horribly and bounced off the plain brick walls around me. I wanted to punch him so badly. Maybe break his nose again like I did all those years back. But I knew better, if the Joker had come to pay me a visit it wasn't without his floozies, so even if I got past him, I'd be stopped less than 50 paces into my escape.

"Ah Katie, you're always good for a laugh!" He danced away from me towards the door, still grinning stupidly. "But never you fear! Your Dark Knight will soon be here!" And without another word, he slammed the door back with a loud smack, and I was left once again in darkness. I could hear his cackling fade as he walked away…

That _bastard_.

**Follies of Fate**

**Chapter 1**

Over the course of my life I've met the Batman probably close to a hundred times. Although many were only passing glances, so I suppose they wouldn't really count as 'meeting' him. Actually if I think about it, cobbling together all the conversations we'd had and everything I know about him we would probably fit into the category of 'passing acquaintance'. Despite this, ever since our first real encounter I've found myself subject to being a hostage, a meat shield or an escape plan.

Fun.

When this first started I was 21. I thought it was just bad luck. The 'wrong place at the wrong time' mentality, as it were. But over the years my bad luck seemed to stick to me and eventually most Supervillains and Superhero's in Gotham knew my face, if not my name.

I'm kind of like the Lois Lane of Gotham, in a dark and less exciting kind of way. You know Lois Lane right? The reporter from Metropolitan City who is always being saved by Superman? That's the one. Except I'm camera shy, I consider miniskirts impractical and I don't openly go looking to put myself in trouble. It just kind of finds me and hits me so hard I'm left gobsmacked and dazed.

Plus there's the whole Superman/Lois Lane romance going on that certainly doesn't match the parallel between the Lois and I. So maybe I'm less Lois Lane and more...well, me.

My name is Kate Strider. I'm now 25 years old, and I'm currently locked up in a small cellar type room in which I can only presume is Joker's newest lair. The laughing electric door knob tipped me off though other than that I hadn't seen or heard anything from the clown.

Right now I'm waiting (uncomfortably) for an opening to get out of here, trying to plan an escape that doesn't involve me sitting around so the Batman can come swoop in and save the day.

It would be a whole lot easier if the stupid Harlequin of Hate hadn't taken everything useful away from me. My hair pins, my handbag, my specially made shoes with the knives hidden in the heels. The mace bottle disguised as a bracelet my mother brought me for my birthday. Hell, he even took my belt, and I think he was going to remove my clothes if Harley Quinn hadn't thrown him out and declared him a cheating shmuck for even considering it.

Thinking about all the little dangerous things I have strapped or built into my clothing makes me feel paranoid, but I guess that's what comes from being associated with the vigilante king for near on five years.

Paranoia.

Possibly insanity.

But for now just paranoia.

I wasn't always paranoid. The first time I met Batman, (as in more than a passing glance) was on the night of my 21st birthday. My boyfriend at the time, Mark, had taken me to the Iceberg Lounge for dinner. It was all very romantic...

* * *

**Near on Five Years Ago...**

"You look beautiful, Kate." I smiled pleasantly at Mark and flicked my hair a little. I felt beautiful in my new blue lace dress. I felt stunning and slim and sexy. I knew I wasn't all of these things, but this dress just made me feel it.

I'd found it coming home from work in a little vintage store I'd never noticed before, and loved it on sight. Of course, it was way out of my price range, but after a fair amount of begging, and a large (most of my paycheck for the week) deposit, the shop owner had agreed to hold it for me until I paid it all off.

It was a remnant of the 50's style in all its glory. It was cut high in the front, dipped into a 'V' at the back, and had an impossibly pinched waistline that made it hard to breathe. But I didn't care, because when I twirled in it is fanned out from my knees and it made my usually flat hair seem shiny and perky. It made my eyes brighter and my step lighter, and when we had walked into the Iceberg Lounge, surrounded by socialites, I didn't feel out of place at all.

"Thank you, Mark, you scrub up pretty well yourself." He grinned proudly at me and unconsciously smoothed down his hair with his free hand. The other hand was occupied with dessert. Chocolate Pie.

The best chocolate pie I'll ever eat in all my life. In my new blue lace dress.

Mark's grin didn't subside as he put down his fork and went to refill my empty champagne glass. I'd had quite a lot of champagne tonight, more than I usually drank. But I didn't really mind the warm feeling growing steadily through my chest, because it was my birthday and I'd probably never come here again unless I married into a rich family or won the lottery.

Mark didn't get far in refilling my glass. He poured the few drops still left in the bottle into the delicate flute and frowned.

"That went fast." He said solemnly, putting the bottle down and continuing to frown at it. I felt a trill of concern run through me; He raised his hand to summon the waitress for another bottle.

"That's ok." I grabbed his hand before he was noticed by the scantily clad servers and smiled. "I think I've had enough anyway." Mark chuckled and squeezed my fingers tenderly.

"It's ok, Katie. I told you already, I've got this." He proved it by releasing my hand and catching a passing waitress by the arm, motioning to the empty champagne bottle. She smiled and nodded politely before tottering off on her far-too-high heels.

I couldn't fathom for the life of me how Mark was paying for all this. He was earning less than I was, and I wasn't earning much. On top of that, I knew from the in-house gossip at work that you had to book at least a year in advance to get a table here (unless you knew who's palms to grease) and Mark and I had only been dating 8 or so months.

Marks big brown eyes slid back to me across the table and he took my hand in his, distracting me from my pondering and concern. Mark had a way of doing that to me. He was my first love; sweet and kind and with an electric touch that made my heart dance and my stomach tighten.

"Katie…" He paused, and for a moment I thought he was about to ask me to marry him, until he lifted a forkful of chocolate pie to my lips and raised an eyebrow "Are you going to help me eat this?" I laughed and ate the offered dessert as delicately as I could, trying not to giggle manically through the chocolate mousse coating my lips.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this a pretty picture! Such a lovely couple!"

I jumped and choked a little on my pie as a bottle of champagne was thrust down on the table between Mark and myself. I covered my mouth and looked away, attempting to clear off my chocolate covered lips before I turned back to talk to whoever it was who had brought the newest bottle.

As I turned my head, I faintly caught the gobstruck and slightly petrified look on Marks face as he stared up at the wait staff. I wondered for a split second why he looked so scared before I turned fully to the man looming over out table and understood completely.

Anyone who had seen a newspaper or watched TV in Gotham city knew the man before us. In a single moment, his beetle-black eyes, sunken in his head like a dead man's, brought me back to childhood fears of monsters hidden under my bed. He was grinning down at us, his horrid yellow smile rimmed with uneven red that stood out against his bleached white skin. I wanted to scream but something deep down in me cut me off short and seized my breath before it reached my throat.

Standing before us, was the one and only Harlequin of Hate himself. And I had never been more terrified.

"…J…Jok…Jok." Mark was stuttering, his hand still poised halfway across the table with a now empty fork. I could see his arm trembling out of the corner of my eye.

"J…J…J…JOKER! That's right buddy boy! Give the man a prize." Joker slapped a hand down hard on Marks shoulder before propping himself on the edge of Marks chair. "You're detective skills are mar-vel-ous! Say…you wouldn't by chance be…" He lent down as his sentence trailed off, drawing in close to Marks ear. There was a dramatic pause as the Joker twisted his head this way and that, over exaggerating his movements as he looked for anyone listening in…and then: "BATMAN!" Mark jumped and yelped as the Joker screamed into his face before twirling back from his chair, cackling hysterically.

I held my breath as he twirled, praying selfishly that he was done with our table and would be moving on. My prayers went unanswered, and his sickening empty eyes dropped to me.

"Well hhheeelllooo." He grinned and stopped spinning, coming to lean over me instead. "What have we got here? Nicely done, nicely done buddy boy!" He thrust a thumbs up to Mark without looking at him, then paused and stepped back, crossing his arms and tapping his chin with his index finger. "Though you could really have done better with the jewels! She's only hostage material without any diamonds sonny-jim." Mark sucked in a breath, and I just stared, frozen as he assessed me. He was leaning back on his heels when he spoke next, his hands making a frame for my face as he 'hmmed' to himself. "But! She would make an EXCELLENT hostage!" He started cackling again.

"What is the meaning of this?"

I jumped as another voice cut through Jokers cackling and turned as much as my fear would allow to look at the newcomer. It was another face I recognized immediately. Penguin. Or Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

"Pengy! How nice of you to show you pointed nose tonight!" The Joker crowed and danced over to Mr. Cobblepot, holding out a hand for Penguin to shake…He didn't shake it. This only proved to make the Joker cackle some more and slide his once outstretched hand through his hair. "Too slow!"

"Mr. Joker, we had an agreement! You gave me your word you would not come here!"

I was transfixed on the exchange all the way up until I noticed a burly man with a painted face forcibly removing a woman's necklace at a nearby table. I let out a woosh of breath as the same man happily relieved the woman's companion of his wallet, watch and cufflinks. A robbery?

This was a robbery?

Well duh Kate. Why else would the Joker be here? To ruin your night?

"Ah yes. I remember that little chat we had! But that was before you double crossed me…"

I snapped back to the conversation happening before me when the Jokers light tone suddenly dropped an octave and became a menacing growl. The sound made me shiver. His voice suddenly just sounded like dark, angry noise. "You sold me out…put a knife in my back…made me ANGRY!" I jumped as he roared over the mulled noise of the other guests.

I suddenly noticed how quiet everyone was being, how there was no screaming or yelling or pleas…just soft, tense whispering as people handed over their jewelry and wallets at gun point. Did the Joker really make everyone here that scared? I knew I was terrified…but _everyone_ _?_

As the Joker seethed over an obviously pissed off Mr. Cobblepot I knew I didn't need an answer. Yes, he scared _everyone_ in this restaurant. Scared them all enough to just do as they were told. The tension in the giant hall grew steadily as the Joker and the Penguin faced off before me. And then it was garishly sliced by the Jokers trademark cackle.

"And…I'm broke! This is the last place Batsy boy would think I'd rob, so it's the perfect place for me to be!" He giggled happily and tapped Penguins shoulder "You know what they say…"

"There's no honor among thieves." A new voice chimed into the conversation. Deeper, dark and gravely and hard. The voice made the Joker freeze, made his grin falter for a split second before it plastered itself tightly back onto his face.

The next few moments were a blur, and when they were over I was dizzy, my forehead was searing painfully and all I knew was I was standing up and something very cold, and very wet was dripping down over my dress.

"Nice to see you Bats!" Jokers voice was so close to my ear the noise sliced at me like a knife and made my head ache. He had me pinned against his chest, his right arm strapped painfully across my collarbones as his left waved something about in front of him. I looked up, catching his mad grin as he gnashed his teeth. Then I blinked, confused as something warm trickled down over my eyebrow and caught in my eyelashes.

"Sorry I'm late."

I looked forward, trying to orientate myself to the voice that had just spoken. The same guttural sound as before. When my eyes landed on the source of the voice, any air left in my lungs literally gushed out in a sort of 'eep'. If I had been more aware, I would have been ashamed at myself for such a noise.

Standing before me, somehow seeming to blend into no existent shadows, was the Dark Knight himself. I'd never seen him up close, but I'd admit I'd fantasized about him a fair bit (what girl hadn't?). Suddenly all my fantasies seemed stupid and whimsical though. The man before me was huge, over 6 foot, with massively broad shoulders. His black cape encompassed him, and I suddenly understood the fear he induced in people as he stared forward at me with those glassed out invisible eyes. He was all black, and shadow, the only hint of his humanity was the angry set line of his jaw, peeking out from his cowl.

"Oh well! Better late than never! Though with you Batsy…I would prefer never." The Jokers voice was growling into my ear, and he swung the thing in his left hand around menacingly. I took this moment to realize exactly what that thing was…it was a broken champagne bottle. The one he had brought to the table when he first announced his arrival.

The once _full_ champagne bottle.

Which was now broken…and sharp…and empty.

The wet feeling seeping through my dress came back to me. The Joker must have smashed the bottle on the table when he grabbed me…leaving the fizzy, sticky substance to soak my dress. My new, perfect, blue lace dress.

Did he know what champagne would do to immaculately kept, superbly looked after 30 something year old lace? It would destroy it, that's what it would do!

I was foggy headed from champagne and god knows what else, and all I could think for one crazy, delusional second was:

You _bastard_ **.**

So, I picked up my foot, bent my head as far forward as I could, and slammed my stiletto heel into his pointy clown shoe.

That made him scream.

And while he was screaming, I snapped my head back up towards his face. The resulting impact hurt.

But by the sickening 'crunch' and resulting high pitched squeal, I could only assume it hurt him a shit load more than it hurt me.

His arm snapped away from me and I stumbled forwards into the waiting grip of Batman, faintly noticing there was something warm and wet now trickling down my back as well as into my eyelashes. I was gently let down in under a second and Batman had the Joker on the ground and cuffed before I could turn and watch the whole thing end.

Everything got a little blurry for a while after that, I recognized the police uniforms streaming in, and faintly noted someone was carrying me at some point. Someone with pointy ears and only half a human face. The next thing I knew I was being loaded into an ambulance with a panicked Mark staring down at me. He kept saying something over and over again. It took me a while to click with what it was.

"Why did you do that?"

I frowned up at him and slurred an indignant answer.

"He ruined my dress."

* * *

Turned out the warm sticky stuff trickling into my eyelashes was my own blood. The Joker had slammed my head into the table before he grabbed me, using enough force to split the skin around my eyebrow and leave a nice little scar. I got my own back though, because the stuff running down my back was the Jokers blood, from his hopelessly broken nose. It never did set back quite right. Thinking about it, if I could go back in time I would have demanded someone tell me if the Joker bled red or if it ran green and slimy like the clown himself.

But I was semiconscious for a lot of the proceeding havoc, so I never got a chance.

The door of the windowless room I was sitting in snapped open with a dramatic thud and I looked up, shaken from my memories. I heaved a sigh as purple suited clown jigged through the doorway and grinned at me through his parted red lips.

I wasn't scared of his face anymore. The shock factor wore off after a while and he just started looking like an idiot with too much face paint on. Though I never really got over his eyes, those dark black orbs that shrunk into his head and peered out at you madly.

"Kate, Kate, Katie! Baby doll! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hello Joker. I was just thinking about you." I smiled nastily back at him as he cooed at me, forcing myself to stand from the cross legged position I'd been stooped in. Joker pulled his hands to his heart dramatically and swooned.

"About little old me? Why Katie, who knew you cared."

I shrugged, rubbing the sore spots on my wrists where the metal cuffs had started to bite.

"You remember my blue lace dress don't you?"

The Joker crossed his arms and tapped his index finger to his chin; a pose I had learnt was his 'thinking' pose. It took a minute of baited silence before he clicked his fingers and called 'uh-huh!' to the empty room.

"The night we first met! You know I never did care for you in blue." He slinked closer and bent so I could feel his breath puffing out over my face "I think you'd look better in…" Her grabbed my chin and stepped back a little, turning my face roughly from side to side. "Purple." He finally declared.

"Really?" He grinned and came back in close, so his face was barley inches from mine as I bit out my response. "…I hate purple."

The Joker threw his head back and burst out with his insane cackle. It echoed horribly and bounced off the plain brick walls around me. I wanted to punch him so badly. Maybe break his nose again like I did all those years back. But I knew better, if the Joker had come to pay me a visit it wasn't without his floozies, so even if I got past him, I'd be stopped less than 50 paces into my escape.

"Ah Katie, you're always good for a laugh!" He danced away from me towards the door, still grinning stupidly. "But never you fear! Your Dark Knight will soon be here!" And without another word, he slammed the door back with a loud _smack,_ and I was left once again in darkness _._ I could hear his cackling fade as he walked away…

That _bastard._

* * *

**Follies of Fate**

**Chapter 1**

Over the course of my life I've met the Batman probably close to a hundred times. Although many were only passing glances, so I suppose they wouldn't really count as 'meeting' him. Actually if I think about it, cobbling together all the conversations we'd had and everything I know about him we would probably fit into the category of 'passing acquaintance'. Despite this, ever since our first real encounter I've found myself subject to being a hostage, a meat shield or an escape plan.

Fun.

When this first started I was 21. I thought it was just bad luck. The 'wrong place at the wrong time' mentality, as it were. But over the years my bad luck seemed to stick to me and eventually most Supervillains and Superhero's in Gotham knew my face, if not my name.

I'm kind of like the Lois Lane of Gotham, in a dark and less exciting kind of way. You know Lois Lane right? The reporter from Metropolitan City who is always being saved by Superman? That's the one. Except I'm camera shy, I consider miniskirts impractical and I don't openly go looking to put myself in trouble. It just kind of finds me and hits me so hard I'm left gobsmacked and dazed.

Plus there's the whole Superman/Lois Lane romance going on that certainly doesn't match the parallel between the Lois and I. So maybe I'm less Lois Lane and more...well, me.

My name is Kate Strider. I'm now 25 years old, and I'm currently locked up in a small cellar type room in which I can only presume is Joker's newest lair. The laughing electric door knob tipped me off though other than that I hadn't seen or heard anything from the clown.

Right now I'm waiting (uncomfortably) for an opening to get out of here, trying to plan an escape that doesn't involve me sitting around so the Batman can come swoop in and save the day.

It would be a whole lot easier if the stupid Harlequin of Hate hadn't taken everything useful away from me. My hair pins, my handbag, my specially made shoes with the knives hidden in the heels. The mace bottle disguised as a bracelet my mother brought me for my birthday. Hell, he even took my belt, and I think he was going to remove my clothes if Harley Quinn hadn't thrown him out and declared him a cheating shmuck for even considering it.

Thinking about all the little dangerous things I have strapped or built into my clothing makes me feel paranoid, but I guess that's what comes from being associated with the vigilante king for near on five years.

Paranoia.

Possibly insanity.

But for now just paranoia.

I wasn't always paranoid. The first time I met Batman, (as in more than a passing glance) was on the night of my 21st birthday. My boyfriend at the time, Mark, had taken me to the Iceberg Lounge for dinner. It was all very romantic...

* * *

**Near on Five Years Ago...**

"You look beautiful, Kate." I smiled pleasantly at Mark and flicked my hair a little. I felt beautiful in my new blue lace dress. I felt stunning and slim and sexy. I knew I wasn't all of these things, but this dress just made me feel it.

I'd found it coming home from work in a little vintage store I'd never noticed before, and loved it on sight. Of course, it was way out of my price range, but after a fair amount of begging, and a large (most of my paycheck for the week) deposit, the shop owner had agreed to hold it for me until I paid it all off.

It was a remnant of the 50's style in all its glory. It was cut high in the front, dipped into a 'V' at the back, and had an impossibly pinched waistline that made it hard to breathe. But I didn't care, because when I twirled in it is fanned out from my knees and it made my usually flat hair seem shiny and perky. It made my eyes brighter and my step lighter, and when we had walked into the Iceberg Lounge, surrounded by socialites, I didn't feel out of place at all.

"Thank you, Mark, you scrub up pretty well yourself." He grinned proudly at me and unconsciously smoothed down his hair with his free hand. The other hand was occupied with dessert. Chocolate Pie.

The best chocolate pie I'll ever eat in all my life. In my new blue lace dress.

Mark's grin didn't subside as he put down his fork and went to refill my empty champagne glass. I'd had quite a lot of champagne tonight, more than I usually drank. But I didn't really mind the warm feeling growing steadily through my chest, because it was my birthday and I'd probably never come here again unless I married into a rich family or won the lottery.

Mark didn't get far in refilling my glass. He poured the few drops still left in the bottle into the delicate flute and frowned.

"That went fast." He said solemnly, putting the bottle down and continuing to frown at it. I felt a trill of concern run through me; He raised his hand to summon the waitress for another bottle.

"That's ok." I grabbed his hand before he was noticed by the scantily clad servers and smiled. "I think I've had enough anyway." Mark chuckled and squeezed my fingers tenderly.

"It's ok, Katie. I told you already, I've got this." He proved it by releasing my hand and catching a passing waitress by the arm, motioning to the empty champagne bottle. She smiled and nodded politely before tottering off on her far-too-high heels.

I couldn't fathom for the life of me how Mark was paying for all this. He was earning less than I was, and I wasn't earning much. On top of that, I knew from the in-house gossip at work that you had to book at least a year in advance to get a table here (unless you knew who's palms to grease) and Mark and I had only been dating 8 or so months.

Marks big brown eyes slid back to me across the table and he took my hand in his, distracting me from my pondering and concern. Mark had a way of doing that to me. He was my first love; sweet and kind and with an electric touch that made my heart dance and my stomach tighten.

"Katie…" He paused, and for a moment I thought he was about to ask me to marry him, until he lifted a forkful of chocolate pie to my lips and raised an eyebrow "Are you going to help me eat this?" I laughed and ate the offered dessert as delicately as I could, trying not to giggle manically through the chocolate mousse coating my lips.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this a pretty picture! Such a lovely couple!"

I jumped and choked a little on my pie as a bottle of champagne was thrust down on the table between Mark and myself. I covered my mouth and looked away, attempting to clear off my chocolate covered lips before I turned back to talk to whoever it was who had brought the newest bottle.

As I turned my head, I faintly caught the gobstruck and slightly petrified look on Marks face as he stared up at the wait staff. I wondered for a split second why he looked so scared before I turned fully to the man looming over out table and understood completely.

Anyone who had seen a newspaper or watched TV in Gotham city knew the man before us. In a single moment, his beetle-black eyes, sunken in his head like a dead man's, brought me back to childhood fears of monsters hidden under my bed. He was grinning down at us, his horrid yellow smile rimmed with uneven red that stood out against his bleached white skin. I wanted to scream but something deep down in me cut me off short and seized my breath before it reached my throat.

Standing before us, was the one and only Harlequin of Hate himself. And I had never been more terrified.

"…J…Jok…Jok." Mark was stuttering, his hand still poised halfway across the table with a now empty fork. I could see his arm trembling out of the corner of my eye.

"J…J…J…JOKER! That's right buddy boy! Give the man a prize." Joker slapped a hand down hard on Marks shoulder before propping himself on the edge of Marks chair. "You're detective skills are mar-vel-ous! Say…you wouldn't by chance be…" He lent down as his sentence trailed off, drawing in close to Marks ear. There was a dramatic pause as the Joker twisted his head this way and that, over exaggerating his movements as he looked for anyone listening in…and then: "BATMAN!" Mark jumped and yelped as the Joker screamed into his face before twirling back from his chair, cackling hysterically.

I held my breath as he twirled, praying selfishly that he was done with our table and would be moving on. My prayers went unanswered, and his sickening empty eyes dropped to me.

"Well hhheeelllooo." He grinned and stopped spinning, coming to lean over me instead. "What have we got here? Nicely done, nicely done buddy boy!" He thrust a thumbs up to Mark without looking at him, then paused and stepped back, crossing his arms and tapping his chin with his index finger. "Though you could really have done better with the jewels! She's only hostage material without any diamonds sonny-jim." Mark sucked in a breath, and I just stared, frozen as he assessed me. He was leaning back on his heels when he spoke next, his hands making a frame for my face as he 'hmmed' to himself. "But! She would make an EXCELLENT hostage!" He started cackling again.

"What is the meaning of this?"

I jumped as another voice cut through Jokers cackling and turned as much as my fear would allow to look at the newcomer. It was another face I recognized immediately. Penguin. Or Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

"Pengy! How nice of you to show you pointed nose tonight!" The Joker crowed and danced over to Mr. Cobblepot, holding out a hand for Penguin to shake…He didn't shake it. This only proved to make the Joker cackle some more and slide his once outstretched hand through his hair. "Too slow!"

"Mr. Joker, we had an agreement! You gave me your word you would not come here!"

I was transfixed on the exchange all the way up until I noticed a burly man with a painted face forcibly removing a woman's necklace at a nearby table. I let out a woosh of breath as the same man happily relieved the woman's companion of his wallet, watch and cufflinks. A robbery?

This was a robbery?

Well duh Kate. Why else would the Joker be here? To ruin your night?

"Ah yes. I remember that little chat we had! But that was before you double crossed me…"

I snapped back to the conversation happening before me when the Jokers light tone suddenly dropped an octave and became a menacing growl. The sound made me shiver. His voice suddenly just sounded like dark, angry noise. "You sold me out…put a knife in my back…made me ANGRY!" I jumped as he roared over the mulled noise of the other guests.

I suddenly noticed how quiet everyone was being, how there was no screaming or yelling or pleas…just soft, tense whispering as people handed over their jewelry and wallets at gun point. Did the Joker really make everyone here that scared? I knew I was terrified…but _everyone_ _?_

As the Joker seethed over an obviously pissed off Mr. Cobblepot I knew I didn't need an answer. Yes, he scared _everyone_ in this restaurant. Scared them all enough to just do as they were told. The tension in the giant hall grew steadily as the Joker and the Penguin faced off before me. And then it was garishly sliced by the Jokers trademark cackle.

"And…I'm broke! This is the last place Batsy boy would think I'd rob, so it's the perfect place for me to be!" He giggled happily and tapped Penguins shoulder "You know what they say…"

"There's no honor among thieves." A new voice chimed into the conversation. Deeper, dark and gravely and hard. The voice made the Joker freeze, made his grin falter for a split second before it plastered itself tightly back onto his face.

The next few moments were a blur, and when they were over I was dizzy, my forehead was searing painfully and all I knew was I was standing up and something very cold, and very wet was dripping down over my dress.

"Nice to see you Bats!" Jokers voice was so close to my ear the noise sliced at me like a knife and made my head ache. He had me pinned against his chest, his right arm strapped painfully across my collarbones as his left waved something about in front of him. I looked up, catching his mad grin as he gnashed his teeth. Then I blinked, confused as something warm trickled down over my eyebrow and caught in my eyelashes.

"Sorry I'm late."

I looked forward, trying to orientate myself to the voice that had just spoken. The same guttural sound as before. When my eyes landed on the source of the voice, any air left in my lungs literally gushed out in a sort of 'eep'. If I had been more aware, I would have been ashamed at myself for such a noise.

Standing before me, somehow seeming to blend into no existent shadows, was the Dark Knight himself. I'd never seen him up close, but I'd admit I'd fantasized about him a fair bit (what girl hadn't?). Suddenly all my fantasies seemed stupid and whimsical though. The man before me was huge, over 6 foot, with massively broad shoulders. His black cape encompassed him, and I suddenly understood the fear he induced in people as he stared forward at me with those glassed out invisible eyes. He was all black, and shadow, the only hint of his humanity was the angry set line of his jaw, peeking out from his cowl.

"Oh well! Better late than never! Though with you Batsy…I would prefer never." The Jokers voice was growling into my ear, and he swung the thing in his left hand around menacingly. I took this moment to realize exactly what that thing was…it was a broken champagne bottle. The one he had brought to the table when he first announced his arrival.

The once _full_ champagne bottle.

Which was now broken…and sharp…and empty.

The wet feeling seeping through my dress came back to me. The Joker must have smashed the bottle on the table when he grabbed me…leaving the fizzy, sticky substance to soak my dress. My new, perfect, blue lace dress.

Did he know what champagne would do to immaculately kept, superbly looked after 30 something year old lace? It would destroy it, that's what it would do!

I was foggy headed from champagne and god knows what else, and all I could think for one crazy, delusional second was:

You _bastard_ **.**

So, I picked up my foot, bent my head as far forward as I could, and slammed my stiletto heel into his pointy clown shoe.

That made him scream.

And while he was screaming, I snapped my head back up towards his face. The resulting impact hurt.

But by the sickening 'crunch' and resulting high pitched squeal, I could only assume it hurt him a shit load more than it hurt me.

His arm snapped away from me and I stumbled forwards into the waiting grip of Batman, faintly noticing there was something warm and wet now trickling down my back as well as into my eyelashes. I was gently let down in under a second and Batman had the Joker on the ground and cuffed before I could turn and watch the whole thing end.

Everything got a little blurry for a while after that, I recognized the police uniforms streaming in, and faintly noted someone was carrying me at some point. Someone with pointy ears and only half a human face. The next thing I knew I was being loaded into an ambulance with a panicked Mark staring down at me. He kept saying something over and over again. It took me a while to click with what it was.

"Why did you do that?"

I frowned up at him and slurred an indignant answer.

"He ruined my dress."

* * *

Turned out the warm sticky stuff trickling into my eyelashes was my own blood. The Joker had slammed my head into the table before he grabbed me, using enough force to split the skin around my eyebrow and leave a nice little scar. I got my own back though, because the stuff running down my back was the Jokers blood, from his hopelessly broken nose. It never did set back quite right. Thinking about it, if I could go back in time I would have demanded someone tell me if the Joker bled red or if it ran green and slimy like the clown himself.

But I was semiconscious for a lot of the proceeding havoc, so I never got a chance.

The door of the windowless room I was sitting in snapped open with a dramatic thud and I looked up, shaken from my memories. I heaved a sigh as purple suited clown jigged through the doorway and grinned at me through his parted red lips.

I wasn't scared of his face anymore. The shock factor wore off after a while and he just started looking like an idiot with too much face paint on. Though I never really got over his eyes, those dark black orbs that shrunk into his head and peered out at you madly.

"Kate, Kate, Katie! Baby doll! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hello Joker. I was just thinking about you." I smiled nastily back at him as he cooed at me, forcing myself to stand from the cross legged position I'd been stooped in. Joker pulled his hands to his heart dramatically and swooned.

"About little old me? Why Katie, who knew you cared."

I shrugged, rubbing the sore spots on my wrists where the metal cuffs had started to bite.

"You remember my blue lace dress don't you?"

The Joker crossed his arms and tapped his index finger to his chin; a pose I had learnt was his 'thinking' pose. It took a minute of baited silence before he clicked his fingers and called 'uh-huh!' to the empty room.

"The night we first met! You know I never did care for you in blue." He slinked closer and bent so I could feel his breath puffing out over my face "I think you'd look better in…" Her grabbed my chin and stepped back a little, turning my face roughly from side to side. "Purple." He finally declared.

"Really?" He grinned and came back in close, so his face was barley inches from mine as I bit out my response. "…I hate purple."

The Joker threw his head back and burst out with his insane cackle. It echoed horribly and bounced off the plain brick walls around me. I wanted to punch him so badly. Maybe break his nose again like I did all those years back. But I knew better, if the Joker had come to pay me a visit it wasn't without his floozies, so even if I got past him, I'd be stopped less than 50 paces into my escape.

"Ah Katie, you're always good for a laugh!" He danced away from me towards the door, still grinning stupidly. "But never you fear! Your Dark Knight will soon be here!" And without another word, he slammed the door back with a loud _smack,_ and I was left once again in darkness _._ I could hear his cackling fade as he walked away…

That _bastard._

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Someone had obviously flicked a switch in the room outside my cell, because a thin ring of light was pooling its way around the doorframe. My eyes adjusted pretty quickly, but I waited for a couple of minutes before looking or moving around. I was waiting to see if the light went off.

Most people would probably have started examining where they were straight away, but I'd been in this situation far to many times to make that mistake. If I started looking around, or even moving around, and the light went off (leaving me in pitch black again), I'd very quickly loose track of my position in the room in relation to the door. The door, at this point, is my only escape option.

There were no windows. If there were they were boarded up exceedingly well because here had been no light at all before Jokers arrival. I continued to stare at the door, trying to figure out a basic idea of where I was. It smelt damp and old, and the air had a certain chill about it that usually came with a room that hadn't seen sunlight for a very long time. The bricks beneath my feet were solid but coated in dust, and there were small bits of lichen growing across the door frame. The door itself wasn't old though; it was metal, still with its unscratched shine. I could faintly make out the large silver bolts running into the bricks beside the door. I'd need explosives to get through it.

I was assuming I was in some kind of cellar or basement. The lack of windows and general atmosphere seemed to point to that. I let out a slow sigh and put my thoughts on hold of a minute, deciding whether on not I could move around yet.

The lights had stayed on. This was both a good and a bad thing, for several reasons. I was hoping, since the lights had been on for a while now, they would stay on. This was good because it gave me a chance to look around for something or some way to get out of here.

The fact that the lights were still on alluded to the possibility that there was someone outside my cell, guarding it. Then again there might not be. But the possibility would be something I would have to plan for. This was bad.

The light was just enough for me to figure out what kind of handcuffs I was wearing. This was important, because if they were the same type of cuffs the Joker always used I could get them off with little difficulty…if I could find something to pick the locks with. This was good

Slowly stepping away from the wall and into the strip of light cast by the door I stared down at the cuffs around my wrists and nearly laughed.

Same old predictable Joker. Same old cuffs. I could even see the blood stain smeared across the chain from my last little encounter with him. Maybe he didn't think the cuffs were that important.

Actually, he probably though the fact that it was always the same ones was some kind of joke.

I remember the Batman telling me once that the Joker was dangerous because of his unpredictability. I disagree, once you got past the madness of his schemes they always seemed to boil down to the same hair brain methods and techniques. Once you'd survived one situation with the Joker, it was just a matter of time before you got good at being one step ahead of him. Only this time I had gotten lazy and been one step behind. I'd been doing so well too, a whole seven months of no kidnappings or attacks.

Sighing to myself I started doing a better sweep of the room I was in. I had been right; I was in an old cellar, a small one, but still a cellar. To my right was a medium sized wine rack that covered the entire wall. To my left was what I presumed was once a large wine barrel, it was rotted now, split down the middle and covered in moss.

I shifted slowly to the wine rack a looked it over. It was bolted to the wall but the wood was old and practically falling apart so I was pretty sure that with enough force I would be able to drag it out from the bricks…maybe. Crouching down, I looked over the joins in the wood and felt a tingle of excitement as I spied the nails still holding the thing together. If I could get one or two of those nails out, and providing they were the right size, I could get my cuffs off.

But fist thing I needed to get the layout of the room in my head just in case the lights went out. Standing, I moved to the furthest right corner of the room, pressed myself against the edge of the wine rack, closed my eyes and started taking cautious steps forward.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 steps to the other wall, no obstacles under foot, turn left.

1, 2…2 and a half steps to the door. Door 1 step width. 1, 2, 3 steps to the opposing wall, turn left.

1, 2, 3, steps to wine barrel. Wine barrel 1 and a half steps wide, half a step to the wall, turn left.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…6 and a half steps back to the wine rack.

I breathed slowly as I reviewed the numbers in my head. It sounds stupid doesn't it? Counting steps around the room. But it's a very useful trick and it's saved me more than once.

I opened my eyes and looked up and around the roof of the cellar. It was curved like a dome, all brick, and I could very faintly make out a large hole in the very top centre point where a lamp must have been suspended before.

I didn't see any cameras, which was a plus because it meant I could do as I pleased in this little cell and no one would be the wiser. However, I couldn't see into the dark farthest corners and heights of the room so I might be wrong. The tiny amount of light would allow for a better camera picture if the Joker had planted any CCTV watches in here to keep an eye on me. Unless he had upgraded his tech to night vision, then I was just royally screwed no matter what.

Bending back to the wine rack I began trying to work a nail from the musty wood. It was relatively easy, the nail slid out like it wasn't even stuck in there in the first place and I held it up to the light. It was a little big, but it might work. Pulling another out I crossed the room and couched in the half step space between the rotting wine barrel and the back wall, hunching over myself to try and hide my hands from the roof.

I still wasn't sure if the Joker had been smart enough to put camera watches in here…But then, the Joker didn't really have a way with technology, especially camera's. There was this onetime, going back a couple of years or so now, that I had been forced at gunpoint to set up a camera for my own ransom video. That had been an interesting night.

Interesting in a horrifying, hysteria inducing way…

* * *

**Four and a Bit Years Ago...**

"What do you mean he _hitchhiked_ back to Gotham?" I stared incredulously at Police Commissioner Gordon. I couldn't fathom what I'd just been told. I couldn't come to terms with it, it was like someone had just poured oil into water and told it to mix, it just wasn't going to happen. "What is the security like at Arkham? That he could just walk out the fucking front gate and _hitch a ride_ back to Gotham city?" I stood from my chair, my legs still shaking a little and my voice raising in a panic as I lent forward until I was practically crawling on the wide mahogany desk separating me from the tired looking commissioner. "How long ago did this happen exactly? How does he know my phone number? _Why did he call me?_ " I was starting to hyperventilate, I could hear my voice degrading to a squeak as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.

Gordon sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. He was a hard man to read, but I was pretty sure that was the signal for 'Oh fuck it all to hell and back' in police speak.

"He escaped earlier this week."

My breath hitched and I felt my lower lip begin to wobble. Gordon noticed his and rushed on, placing his hands folded on the table and looking at me eye to eye.

"We've been tracking him but we think he's bribing someone in the force to hinder our investigations. Don't worry, Miss Strider, we're doing everything we can to catch him, and we will catch him."

I tried to take a few deep breaths, but they came out more like gasps, and I felt the first big salty tear roll down my cheek.

"But why did he call _me?_ How did he get my number?" I choked out, trying to wipe away the tears now tumbling out over my face. "Its not even listed! He'd have to know where I live to get my number." Another sob cut my sentence in half as I realized this. He knew where I lived.

The Joker knew where I lived.

I let out a miserable little wail and buried my face in my hands. I was ashamed of how I was acting right now, all weak and snivelly and pathetic, but I just couldn't help it. I wished I was like one of those cool movie stars who took this all in her stride and ended up being the hero who worked it all out in the end. But no amount of wishing would make me like that. I wasn't a brave strong Hollywood star able to demand a re write of my story. I was just plain old Kate.

Even my name was average!

I couldn't fight, I had never fired a gun in my life and I was never good at solving mysteries. Hell, I wasn't even that fit! One session of yoga and I was ready to curl into a ball and die.

The only time I had ever been brave was at the Iceberg lounge six months ago, and that had been alcohol and concussion fueled…and this is what it had gotten me!

"Its OK, Miss Strider." Commissioner Gordon stood and rounded his table, kneeling beside me and rubbing my back. I opened my eyes to look at him and bit my lip, trying to stop it trembling. "Just take a few deep breaths, I'll get you some water and tissues and we'll go over all of this again OK?" I nodded and sniffled.

Police Commissioner Gordon reminded me of my Grandfather. Though not nearly as old, he had that same sweet and caring look on his face my Grandpa used whenever I was scared as a kid. 'Perk up chicken' he would mumble, rubbing my back and smiling ever so slightly 'It'll all be over soon, you'll be fine'.

I nodded and sucked in some shaky breaths, repeating my Grandpa's words over and over in my head. It was strange that such an old memory seemed to be calming me down now. Gordon smiled at me and patted my hand, standing and offering me the tissues from his desk. I took them, but waited until he had turned his back to pour me a drink from his water jug to mop up my face.

"Now, Kate…do you mind if I call you Kate?" He turned and handed me the glass of water as he spoke and I shook my head. No, I didn't mind if he called me Kate. I preferred it, it sounded more like I was a person when he called me by my first name, rather than a case file. "Tell me again what happened."

I took a sip of water, then took a deep breath. Then another sip of water and another breath. Commissioner Gordon sat down at his desk and smiled at me kindly.

"Well…" I wasn't sure where to start "I came home at the usual time."

"What time was that?" Commissioner Gordon asked quietly. I noticed he had pulled out a pen and pad and was poised to write down what he probably assumed was an important clue.

"6ish" I mumbled, trying to remember the position of the hands on my clock at home. "I had a shower, checked my messages. I only had two, one was from my family and the other was from the Joker." I was proud at how easily I said all that. In one smooth slow sentence without any sobs, or gasps or hiccups.

"Do you remember what the message said?" The Commissioner probed after a moment. I nodded and reached for my bag, pulling out my mobile.

"I have this service were I can listen to the messages on my home phone from my mobile." I flipped the phone open and dialled the message bank, turning it to speaker. The phone rang once, then the mechanical voice operated chimed on the line.

"You have one saved message, message received today at: 5:43pm." The beeping tone sounded before the message began to play. There was a long pause, where all I could hear was someone breathing in the background and what sounded like hyena's laughing, then his voice boomed out over the speaker. It made me jump, even through this was about the eighth time I had listened to the message since I'd gotten it.

"Oh! Its already gone to message bank! Sorry Katie baby, hope I didn't _scare_ you!" The Jokers maniacal cackle started up before he spoke again a moment later "I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought hey! Why not call the gal I've been keening over all these long months while I've been away. But you're obviously not about!" There was another pause, and his laughter died down. When he spoke again, his voice had sunk to a low growl. I felt a shudder run through me, it was the same way he had spoken when I had first heard him angry at the Iceberg lounge. "Don't worry poo, I'll _catch_ you _real_ soon." then with a sharp click, the line went dead and the mechanical voice chimed 'end of messages'.

I snapped the phone shut.

"Sounds like a threat to me."

I jumped, and let out a pretty high-pitched squeal as a baritone voice chimed in from the back corner of the room near the window. I think I started hyperventilating.

Batman was standing in the corner of the room. I was surprised I hadn't noticed him before considering he was standing in plain sight. Well, if you didn't count the ominous shadows that clung to him like spider webs. The whole point of batman was for him to blend in and go unnoticed, right?

I found myself just sort of…staring at him for a moment, trying to figure out where you were meant to look if and when he addressed you. The most obvious place was his eyes. But his mask had little dark glass inserts where his eyes should be that obscured them completely from view. It was off-putting, which I could only assume was the intent, but it meant my eyes couldn't seem to help wandering away from his blank stare. Maybe his mouth? Should you look at his mouth? No…that was just odd.

I settled for the floor. Feeling like a scolded schoolgirl as I sat there reviewing the pattern in the carpet.

"The Joker doesn't make idle threats Gordon, if he went to the trouble to find her information and contact her, he's not playing games."

I heard Gordon 'hmmm' but didn't look up. I was trying to hide the tears slowly seeping back into my eyes. ' _Perk up Chicken_ ' I repeated to myself, _Perk up Perk up Perk up, you'll be fine._

"What are you thinking? Protective custody?" Gordon sounded somewhere between reserved and tired. Like this was a dance he'd danced before. I wondered how many other women had been sitting here in the same position I was in now.

I swallowed harshly, thinking about what protective custody would mean. As if my life wasn't enough of a mess as it was. Mark and I had been on rocky ground recently, he claimed I wasn't spending enough time with him and was skitterish and jumpy when he was around. With work sucking up practically all my time I could barley stay awake after my day ended, let alone be a hapy perky girlfriend and my nerves were still frayed more than I would have liked from the Iceberg Lounge.

My boss wouldn't like it either; he'd hated the press that came with me being the 'heroic woman who broke the Jokers nose'. He'd hated it because it wasn't about him and his fancy suits. He'd never promote me if I went into protective custody. Hell, he'd fire me.

"No, he'll track her down, and the last thing we want is more people getting hurt when he makes his move." Batman sounded monotone. Batman always sounded monotone. But I could feel his eyes on me from his dark corner.

Part of me was grateful for the idea being nullified. The rest of me felt a little twitch of anger flick down my spine. So this was all my fault then? People were going to get hurt because of me? Why did he have to talk about this whole thing like I wasn't in the room?

More tears caught in my eyes and I swallowed thickly, trying to suppress the urge to sob. One salty drop escaped and scurried down my cheek before I could stop it. I swiped it away, turning to stare at the carpet in the other corner of the room. _Perk up_ I reminded myself again and again.

"Surveillance at her apartment then." Gordon suggested, seeming to forget about my presence as well. I desperately wanted to interject with 'What about what I want' but I reminded myself I didn't know what I wanted at the moment and I would just end up stuttering stupidly when I was asked my opinion.

I'd be fine though, they'd figure something out and I'd be safe and sound and nothing like this would ever happen again. That's what the police and Batman was for right? Helping people in trouble?

"No, too obvious, he'll see it and change his plans. I suggest for the moment we leave the situation open, I'll have a constant watch on her and if he makes his move I'll step in to stop it. The one thing we know about the Joker Gordon is his capability to act unpredictably, if he doesn't come out now, he might go to ground and end up doing something far worse later on."

I digested this statement in a heartbeat and turned to face Batman so fast I heard my neck crack.

"What…" I felt myself begin to tremble from a horrible mixture of terror and anger. "What do you mean leave the situation open?" I stared at his blank eyes, trying to find some sort of explanation that didn't lead to the conclusion I had settled on. Batman gave none, and the grim set of his jaw didn't change in the slightest.

"Now, Kate, please stay calm." Gordon sounded reserved. I whipped to face him and forced myself to stand on shaky legs. He agreed with this? Gordon thought leaving me all alone against the Joker was a suitable solution?

"Stay calm? You want me to stay calm when I'm meant to be bait for a lunatic?"

Gordon sighed and shook his head.

"No-one said you were going to be bait." His reassuring words didn't help, and he must have known it too, because he scooted around the table and went to take my arm. I jerked away from his touch like he was made of acid.

"Yes he did." I swiveled again to face the emotionless man still poised in the corner of the room "You think I don't understand what you mean? If he doesn't come out to get me, you might not get a chance to catch him again. If there's police or security around me, he might get sneakier or even not bother! You want me out there, for all to see so when he comes to get me…" I stopped dead and slapped a hand to my mouth, slamming my eyes shut to try and forget what I knew was a reality. "You're just going to let him come aren't you?" I managed to mutter out.

There was a moment of silence before the dark baritone of Batman rattled through the room.

"Yes."

I choked on a sob and looked up at Gordon in a last ditch hope of finding some argument from him. Surely he wouldn't allow this?

Gordon just looked exhausted.

"You'll be fine, Kate, I don't like it either but as I said before there's a possible leak in the department. If the police act, we might make things worse or even open the door for the Joker to hurt you. If something happens we'll be there as fast as we can, but in the meantime, Batman can keep you safe."

Safe? I stared at him in disbelief. I'd be safe? All alone, in an unsecured apartment, with no one but Batman looking out for me against the Joker and his goons. I'd be _safe_?

"Bullshit!" The ferocity I put behind the word shocked even me, and Batman's jaw twitched. Gordon went to say something else but I cut him off as I grabbed my bag, swiping tears away from my eyes angrily. "Screw you both, if you're not going to help me I'll help myself" And I turned and left, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could.

It took me until I was half way back to my apartment in a cab for the anger to subside, then I broke down completely. I could barley see or breath through my tears as I realized the horrid truth of the situation.

I didn't know how to help myself.

The Joker was responsible for some of the most horrific murders and crimes in Gotham. He was a psychotic mad man with no morality or cares, and he was after me. What was I going to do against that sort of a person?

"You alright love?"

I glanced up through my sobbing at the man behind the wheel of the cab and shook my head at him, feeling a rant rising in my throat.

"No! I'm not all right! I hate this city!" The words were barley recognisable through my wheezing, but I didn't care "I hate the police, I hate the Joker, and more than anything I hate Batman! That stupid bastard doesn't care at all! Not about me anyway" I trailed off and stared at my hands, still sobbing like an idiot. "Its like it doesn't matter how scared you are, as long as the situation you're in is useful to him he doesn't care…"

The driver didn't say anything, and I felt my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. After a moment of silence I murmured an apology and continued to stare at my hands, closing my eyes and keeping my mouth firmly shut. Eventually I stopped crying and felt exhaustion hit me. I was so tired; it had been a hard day as it was without the message. I'd been yelled at by my boss for suggesting a less expensive suit to a customer, I'd had an argument with my parents over the coming Christmas holidays, an argument that then got worse when I admitted to mum Mark probably wouldn't be joining us.

I hadn't eaten today, skipping breakfast in favour of getting to work on time and skipping lunch in the hope it would stop me being fired. I was starving and it was late.

It had taken me a few hours to work up the courage to leave my house after I'd pressed play on my answering machine, and even once I'd gotten to the police station Commissioner Gordon hadn't been able to see me for two or so hours. All of that seemed worthless now, because it hadn't really gotten me anything but two sore, bloodshot eyes and a sudden distrust in the Gotham city police department…and Batman.

Batman. If I'd met him like that in any other situation I probably would have swooned and just sat there grinning, daydreaming about the possibility of him thinking I was pretty enough for a night time romance. The kind you find in a Mills and Boons novel. But now I didn't know if I actually wanted anything to do with him. He seemed crueler and darker than the newspapers reported him to be, and the kindness so many of his rescuees had said he had didn't seem to apply to me.

 _Then again_ , the little voice of reason in my head chimed in, _He's right isn't he? If you could be a little braver about all this you could help a lot more people who would suffer at the Jokers hands if he's not locked up._

I heaved a sigh and rubbed my eyes. Yes, that was true. If the Joker stayed out of Arkham longer he would have more time to do more damage. But what was the point of catching him if the revolving door policy of the insane asylum would have him back on the streets in no time at all? Again, my voice of reason chimed in.

_It's a chance. It's a chance that he won't get out again. Its better that he gets caught so he can't do damage than it is to just let him be and see what havoc comes out of it._

I blinked and huffed to myself, nodding at my hands. Yes, I suppose that was right. It was a chance that he wouldn't come back again. It was the possibility that he wouldn't get to hurt anyone anymore. I should have been thinking about that instead of throwing a tantrum.

But I was scared. This sort of thing just didn't happen to me. The world of the Joker and Batman was like a comic book or a cartoon to me. It was something I knew about, but never expected to suffer through.

So wasn't I allowed to be scared when someone like the Joker targeted me? Wasn't I allowed the same protection as I would be given if it was just some obsessed ex boyfriend or a pissed off colleague? Why was my safety suddenly not as valued when it came to the Joker.

My stomach rumbled and I looked up for the first time in a while, we should have been close to my apartment.

Except, we weren't. A little trill of fear crept up my spine as I tried to recognise where we were.

"Um…excuse me sir?" I sat forward in my seat and tapped the driver on the shoulder "I think you missed my street..." For a moment the man was still and my heart leapt into my throat. Was this it? Had I been stupid and blind enough not to notice I'd already been stolen away?

Then the man jumped slightly and glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. He had a nice face, brown eyes and curly hair. I tried to smile at him, very sure I must have looked horrible, and still feeling like I should be getting ready to throw myself out of the cab.

"O' sorry, miss, ya haven't piped up in a bit, though' I'd just concentrate on the road." He threw me a sympathetic look and rubbed his neck. "I'm taking a longer route around to avoid the Friday night traffic. I shoulda asked you 'fore I started out."

I shook my head and glanced out the window, feeling a sudden whoosh of relief as he pulled into a street I recognised. Of course, calm down Kate. Just a normal taxi driver on a normal, busy, Friday night.

I made myself a new rule though, as I stared out the window at the familiar buildings rushing by. Rule 1: No getting into taxi's anymore without checking the driver. I was pretty sure there was a way you could check if the taxi you were getting into was a real one. There had to be.

I was considering this rule thoughtfully when we pulled up at a red light, I'd have to do some research and figure out how to make my new Rule work. I slumped back in my seat. Maybe I should start making up more rules.

Maybe I should learn how to protect myself.

Maybe I should buy a taser. A big one I could beat people with when the stun ran out.

I was trying to figure out where someone would actually _buy_ a taser when three people moved in front of the taxi, pausing in the headlights. The light changed to green and the driver swore under his breath, beeping his horn.

After a moment I leant forward so I was perched between the drivers and front passenger seats and watched the little group. It was unusual to see people at this back road intersection. It wasn't really a pedestrian crossing and it was too late for people in this neighbourhood to be wandering around. They were huddled into one another, but one was waving his arms around like they were in the middle of a very heated discussion.

I narrowed my eyes at the one throwing his hands about. He had his back to the car but there was something familiar about his suit and in this light, his hair almost looked…

I unclipped my seatbelt and lent further forward.

...Green.

The driver slammed his hand on the horn again just as a scream burbled itself up my throat. I wanted to reach out and tell him not to, to just put his foot on the gas, but I never had the time to say the words as the man in the headlights swung around to face the car, levelled a gun at the drivers side and pulled the trigger.

I screamed as the deafening BANG of the gun exploded around me and warm red liquid splattered across my arm and face. Scurrying back into the back seat I reached for the door handle, yanking it open and coming face to face with a yellowed smile and sunken black eyes.

"Hey there Katey Kate Kate!"

I tried to scream again, tried to throw myself away from him towards the other door but his hands shot out and caught me by the neck, a cold metal barrel pressing hard into my forehead.

"Now, now poo, none of that, what would the neighbours think?" His light and cheerful tone stung my ears and I whimpered, blinking through a fresh batch of tears as he cackled and tapped the barrel of the gun against my head. Slowly, he unhooked his long fingers from around my neck. "Come, come, I don't have all day, scoot over." I did as I was told, shifting in the seat until the Joker had enough room to slip in beside me.

"You know Mista J, we coulda just made one of the boys drive the taxi, then there wouldn't be all this icky blood!" I wiplashed my head around at the light droll tone coming from the front seat and stared at the woman trying to shift the now limp body of the driver out of the car. I knew her. She was Harley Quinn, the Jokers Hench girl.

Last I heard she was still in Arkham.

She was pouting, her eyebrows furrowed over her big baby blues as she continued to try and haul the man out from behind the wheel. I felt hysteria rise in my throat and tried to force it down. They'd just killed a man, he was dead, the driver was dead and she was talking about his icky blood. They had me now, and soon I would be dead too. Would she complain about my blood? I whimpered.

"Shut up and drive!" The Joker hissed, and I was suddenly aware of how close his mouth was to my ear. Harley huffed but did as she was told, finally managing to tip the driver out and slip into the drivers seat, muttering something about how she'd never get the blood out of her costume. Behind me, someone else got into the car and I glanced at him. He was huge, a burley man with a painted white face that barley fit through the door.

Harley revved the engine and slammed her foot on the gas pedal, forcing me back into my seat with the g-force and running the newly red light.

There was silence in the car for a while, the only sound was my hyperventilating and the roar of an engine going far to fast. I finally managed to push out what I deemed to be an important question.

"Are you going to kill me?" I turned so I could get a better look at the Joker, only realising this was a bad idea when his eyes met mine and I was again forced to realise just how close he was sitting to me. He grinned and slung his free arm around my shoulder, the gun still pressed to my temple.

"Well now, that all depends on how good you are."

I felt the blood drain from my face and closed my eyes. It was strange, now this situation was upon me…I was scared, yes, but part of me felt oddly…static. Like when you turn on an un-tuned TV and you get all those ants and fuzz on your screen. My brain had turned into an un-tuned TV. I couldn't even begin to conjure what 'being good' meant to the Joker.

I slowly began to come up with some idea's that made my blood chill, but my train of though was cut off as we squealed around a corner too fast and the car sat up on its two right side wheels. I felt myself being thrown to the side, right into the Joker, and the breath being knocked out of me at the impact. I was half sprawled across the seat as the car dropped back onto four wheels and I let out a wheezing gasp, faintly noticing the cackling in my ear and the two horribly skinny arms curled around me.

"Awwww, Katey-baby! Never knew you cared!" Joker laughed a high pitch laugh and I winced as one of his arms moved to catch me in a headlock. "Well now! Shall we get on with business?"

I reached up and hooked my hands over his arm, trying to pull it away from my neck so I could breath better, this proved a stupid thing to do because it only made him tighten his hold.

"Don't struggle poo, or I'll have to get Buck here to properly restrain you." Joker chucked and I stilled as the menacing goon in the seat next to me grinned. "Now…you and I are going to make a family video!" He smoothed the gun down my cheek then barked an order at his henchgirl "Harley! Where's the camera!" Harley took another corner too fast before throwing a scared look the rear view mirror.

"I though' you had it puddin'." She squeaked.

There was a moment of tense silence and I could feel the arm around my neck tightening. The gun moved from my head and I couldn't stop a scream as Joker pulled the trigger and the deafening sound again filled the car. Eyes wide, I watched the windscreen split and spider web out from where the second bullet of the night had wizzed through it, narrowly missing Harley Quinns headrest. Harley squeaked and ducked her head as the Joker hurled a long list of obscenities at her. All the while I could hear her shrieking that she was sorry.

Then Jokers yelling subsided after a moment and there was another pause before his arm loosened and his laughter filled the car.

"Oh! I forgot! I gave it to Buck!" Joker grinned and brandished his gun around. I sucked in a much needed breath as 'Buck' nodded slowly, producing a small video camera. "Turn it on! Press the button that does the thing and makes the light go red."

Buck looked perplexed for a moment as he just held the camera in his overly large hands. If I wasn't in a headlock with a gun to my head I would have laughed at the fact that there was someone in the city below the age of 50 that couldn't operate a video camera. But I was, so I didn't.

Instead, I just half lay there. Crying. Feeling like the situation was so horribly lost it couldn't get worse. Then it did. Joker sighed dramatically and tapped the gun barrel to my neck 'hmmming'

"Haaarrllleeeeeey!" I jumped at his sudden outburst from The Joker and heard Harley squeak.

"Yessir?" She was throwing quick petrified looks into the rear view mirror. I couldn't blame her for her fear, despite the fact she had signed up for this. The windshield of the car was getting worse with every bump we hit, and every pothole shattered the glass further.

"Turn on the camera!" Harley 'eep'ed and shook her head at Jokers sharp instruction.

"But…but Mista J, I'm driving" She made a reasonable point. Joker frowned and 'hmm'ed again, tapping the gun harder against my neck.

"No excuse…but fine! Kate! Camera!"

I stared up at him blankly, still gripping his arm and trying to see through my tears. I wished I could stop crying.

"W…hat?" I gasped. He sighed and his face contorted in something akin to distaste.

"Turn…the…camera…on." He growled, each word enunciated with a hard vocal bite and a jab in the head with his gun. I swallowed thickly and nodded. I wasn't about to argue with him, he'd turned his gun on his girlfriend, what was there to stop him actually killing me with it? I reached out my hands and took the camera Buck had extended to me. I could barley see through the tears still trickling down my face and it took me a few tries to find the right buttons and start the thing recording, my hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped it once or twice too.

"Well?" Jokers impatient voice hummed in my ear and I could feel his breath on my cheek "Is it on?" His arm tightened around my neck and I gasped, nearly dropping the camera again as my hands involuntarily tried to jump back to his arm. He was squeezing tighter than he had the entire car ride and I felt myself begin to panic as my lungs started screaming.

"Yes!" I gasped, thrusting the camera back to Buck before grabbing at the Jokers arm "I…I can't….breath." He just started laughing, the sound even more painful as I struggled against his hold, kicking my legs out desperately trying to gain some leverage against the pressure on my throat.

"Boss…I think you're loosing her." It was the first time Buck had spoken and I could have hugged him for his little intervention. My vision was beginning to blur and I was feeling slightly sluggish in my struggle. It didn't help that I had been having trouble crying through my hysteria before, now every little gasp felt like fire in my body.

Then the pressure was gone, I could breath again, and air rushed into my lungs so fast I felt dizzy. I lurched up, only to realise the Joker hadn't actually released me, just shifted his arm slightly so he was gripping me around my shoulders. I was coughing as he dragged me back to him, his lips pulled back into a smile directed at the now recording camera.

"Say cheese, Kate." His voice was dark again, low and rumbling through his chest violently "I want to record something special for our friend Batman."

I shuddered and looked up as his gun tipped my chin back.

"You remember her don't you Bats? She was pretty before, but I think she looks better this way" Joker laughed again and I let out a weak little yelp, struggling against his hold again as he ran his tongue up over my cheek. He hmmmed and I felt the car swerve a little. He shot a look to the front seat and the car evened out again. Then he addressed the camera again "Blood is defiantly her colour."

I'd nearly forgotten the blood, the drivers blood. I was covered in a mans blood.

The hysteria clawing through my chest burst out then and I started struggling frantically, screaming and lashing my arms and legs out in every direction I could make them go. I didn't care about the gun anymore. It didn't matter. He was going to shoot me anyway, so why should it matter?

I was so frantic I barely noticed the sudden crash of the windscreen shattering completely, and Harley Quinns screams as she was yanked through the broken glass by a dangerous looking black arm. But I did defiantly notice when the handbrake was pulled on, because I went flying forward into the back of the front seats, my whole body slamming hard to the floor of the taxi as the momentum of the car ended.

The gun went off somewhere above me and I snapped my hands over my head, screaming and crying and trying to make myself as small as possible. The gun kept firing, and in amongst the constant hard beats of the gun blast came Jokers frantic laughter.

Then it went quiet. Everything was still and so very very quiet. I didn't move, I curled up there, on the floor and just stayed still. I could still hear myself whimpering and sobbing, and part of me knew I was lying on glass fragments from the windscreen. If I just stayed there, it would all go away, this would all go away if I just stayed still. Just stay still Kate, don't move. Just don't move.

A hand touched me, I know it was a hand because fingers curled gently around my arm. I screamed, loud and so harsh it hurt my throat and I threw myself away from the touch, just screaming into the quiet. I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want to see. I didn't want to know. The taxi doors were obviously open because as I tumbled backwards I fell the short distance to the road. I flipped myself onto my hands and knees and scurried desperately away from the taxi, trying to stand as I moved. I stumbled to my feet eventually, but I barley took my first step before someone caught me around the waist. I screamed again, trying to push out of their grasp. I was so, so desperately scared.

"Kate!" The voice was different, lower, softer. It didn't matter who the voice belonged to though. I kept struggling, kept screaming. Surely someone would hear me, surely someone would help me. "Kate! Its ok!"

"No!" I kicked out, hitting at the arms around my stomach and trying to land a decent blow to my new captors legs.

"Kate! You're safe! Its ok!"

My captor released me and grabbed my shoulders, turning me around so quickly I got dizzy. "Open your eyes Kate, look at me" I slammed my hands out, trying to push away.

"No! Don't touch me!" A strong hand caught my wrists while an arm hooked around my waist and pulled me to a hard body, immobilising me almost completely.

"Look at me Kate!"

I let out a strangled sob and stopped struggling, opening my eyes slowly to reality. I looked up, and found two black glass eyes staring back at me. Batman. It was Batman.

More relief than I could handle flooded me as I stared up at him, and suddenly I was just so tired. I felt my legs give out from under me, and let him support my weight as I stood there, crying into his cape.

* * *

I stared down at the cuffs on the dusty ground of the cellar and rubbed my wrists. The nails were a little too big, but the lock had been picked so many times it didn't take much to hit the sweet spot. I stretched my arms out and took a deep breath.

I remembered that night so clearly. I remember clinging to Batman like he was a lifeline, gripping his cape so tightly my hands went numb. I remembered being carried to a police cruiser and driven to the Gotham police department to give a statement with Commissioner Gorgon holding my hand the entire time. I remember not being able to say much.

I still couldn't say much about that night. It was hard, harder than a lot of the following kidnappings and attacks. I think because it was the first. The terror had been so hard to deal with when you'd never had to suffer it before.

Now terror was something I could force into a little black hole at the corner of my mind and deal with later.

I leant my head back against the brick wall behind me and sighed. The Jokers attack that night had been sloppy, rushed. I had been lucky Batman had caught up with the Taxi so fast after I had stormed out. I hadn't felt lucky though, the bruises around my neck had lasted weeks and the glass cuts stung so badly when I showered I often debated not bothering.

But the funny thing was. For all the terror, the hysteria and the horror of the attack and the press that came after, the main thing I remember from that night was Batman holding me just as tightly as I was clinging to him.

I remember his grip, and I remember his muttering he was sorry.

The light outside the door flickered and I tensed, sitting up on my knees and pushing back into the wall. I'd relied on Batman back then, I'd been a mess in need of saving. But not anymore, I'd taken care of myself before. I could do it again now.

I took a deep breath as the light flickered off completely as I was left in the pitch-blackness.

I would be fine. I knew how to help myself now. _Perk up_.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

The light flickered on, went dark again, then blinked back through the rim of the door. It did this a couple of times and I had to shut my eyes so I wouldn't get that seasick feeling that strobe lighting tended to give me. Whatever building I was in I was pretty sure it was older than anything I knew of in Gotham. I couldn't think of anything inside the city that sported cellars like this. There were plenty of old warehouses, but the shape and contents of this room suggested a manor or house.

That meant I was probably outside the city limits. Hopefully not too far out. I kept my eyes closed and took a few deep breaths at this realisation. I may have been getting better at getting away from the Joker, but if I was right and I was outside the city, escaping on my own was sounding more and more difficult.

I was lucky I kept my eyes closed, because the light flickered again and shut off completely. I waited a while, then sighed when I realised the light probably wasn't going to come back on anytime soon.

I crouched back close to the wall and lent my forehead against my knees, closing my eyes and regulating my breathing. I'd never truly gotten used to absolute darkness, even having experienced it so many times before. No matter what I would still feel that trill of fear hit me when the lights went out and there was nothing to see. I'd been holding out pretty well since I'd been thrown in here, keeping my mind elsewhere so I wouldn't focus on the fact that I was essentially blind. I just had to make sure I kept breathing carefully. In and out, in and out.

Few people ever experience true and complete darkness. I've had arguments about how disorientating it can be with a number of people throughout the years. I've tried to explain in as many ways as language will allow that the fear comes when you realise you can't see your hands when they're so close to your face you can feel your breath on them. Or than eventually if you start to move around you can actually loose all sense of what's up and what's down, so much so that sometimes it can feel like your suspended in nothingness. I shuddered and pressed further into the wall; I remembered that feeling, that maddening moment when your senses begin to lie to you and you're not sure why the blood is rushing to your head, or if you're actually standing on solid ground.

I remember trying to explain it to a work friend of mine once. She just about drove me crazy with her inability to truly listen to what I was trying to tell her.

Won't your eyes adjust eventually?

I smiled slightly at the memory and slowly stretched my legs out, keeping my back flush to the corner I was propped against. In the end, she never came to grips with the concept that there was nothing for your eyes to adjust to. There was no light, so small twinkling of whiteness for your eyes to cling to. But then again, Colleen never really understood much outside gum, men and flirting her way into a bonus.

Breath in, breath out...

There was one thing that could be said as a positive for absolute pitch-black darkness. Without your ability to see, your other senses quickly re worked themselves to pick up the slack. It had been something I had started practicing about a year ago, on the recommendation of the Dark Knight. I just had to make sure I kept focused and relied on what my other senses were telling me. Could I hear anything useful? Was there any strange smells?

I took a deep breath, held it, and listened.

Nothing.

There wasn't a single sound coming from this room. No rats or creepy crawlies anywhere near me, no creaking of wood, no movement of air, and most importantly, not a single sound from behind the door. The room was almost completely silent. I let go of the breath I had been holding and took another one.

Still nothing.

I breathed out.

One of the first things I realised when I started relying more on my hearing was that nine times out of ten, you wouldn't hear the noise you were searching for it you were trying to hear it over the sound of your own breathing. I made the discovery very late one night when I had woken up to the horrifying sound of someone banging through my kitchen. Or at least what I thought sounded like someone in my kitchen. I rolled out of bed and curled myself into the small space behind my door, my heart beating in my ears and my breathing uneven. I had tried to listen, tried to focus on where the sound was coming from, but I hadn't been able to figure it out. So I closed my eyes, and held my breath, thinking that maybe the less sound I made, the harder it would be for whatever or whoever was out there to hear me.

Turned out it also made it easier for me to hear what was going on.

The sound I had heard turned out to be nothing dangerous, just some washing up I had left precariously balanced beside my sink slipping around. But it taught me a lesson, a lesson I had used again, and again, and again throughout the many sleepless nights I spent balanced on the balls of my feet behind my door after being woken by some random noise or movement in my apartment.

I heaved a sigh and tried to focus on the room again. I didn't need a reminder of how tired I was, I already knew all too well.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose this time, trying to identify a smell. It was a long shot. It was a skill that I hadn't refined nearly enough for it to be useful, but I was trying, and with Batmans help I was slowly getting better at it.

Another deep breath.

There was something in the air other than the thick murky smell of stale air and rotting wood. Something organic and sweet that hit the back of my throat after a few more deep pulls through my nose. It smelt like a forest floor, moisture and lichen and rotting leaves with a sweet undertone of something poison.

I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been searching for something out of the ordinary, I would have just assumed the air in the cellar put a bad taste in my mouth.

There was an odd sound too. A cracking noise that was barley audible and could have just been a creepy crawly scuttling around the room. Something from outside the door, soft footsteps padding on stone, the scraping of a chair, then…

Pop. I jumped at the sound of glass breaking and someone swearing loudly outside the door. It was a feminine voice, high and winy and so familiar it sent an involuntary shudder through me. Harley Quinn.

There was a pause and the light outside the door came back on brighter and fiercer than before. I blinked my eyes open wearily and frowned as more soft cursing and chair scraping sounded from outside. Then silence. Fine, if Quinn was outside that was just fine. I could deal with Quinn, and judging by the lack of abusive yelling she was alone. No goons. If she came into the cellar I could be hopeful about living through the experience.

My eyes adjusted to the light and I started squinting into the darker corners of the room, pulling my attention back to the odd smell I had sussed out before Harley had busted the light bulb. The new light bulb I could only assume had replaced the broken one was more powerful and lit the cellar a little better. This was a good thing.

It took me a few moments to spot the cause of the smell, but eventually I did. In the left hand corner of the room, stretching out over the broken wine rack and climbing towards the centre of the wall and roof was a vine. Well, a muddled mat of several vines all intertwining and curling into each other as they pushed their way through the brick. I narrowed my eyes at the little plot of dark green, as the familiarity of it clawed at my memory and I tried to recall why I knew those vines and that smell.

The smell and the plant didn't remind me of something I realised after a long moment. No, it reminded me of someone.

…Poison Ivy

Or more specifically her plants. Each vine or flower she created held that undertone smell of poison and forest floor. It was like each plant she manipulated bled that smell through its sap and life blood.

Shit

I stared at the vines, watching far more closely as they curled and continued to grow slowly right before my eyes, pushing with enough strength to crack the bricks they were clinging too. Yep, Ivy was here. No way those little plants could be sprouting the way they were without a little help from 'Red'.

Why would Ivy be here? Joker and Ivy weren't on talking terms. They didn't associate with one another unless it was for a friendly Poker game or it had something to do with Harley. I shook my head, right now that didn't matter.

If Ivy was here…and if she was here on her own free will, all I was going to worry about was how much harder it was going to be for me to get out of here. Joker by himself I might be able to handle if presented with the right opportunity. Ivy, Joker and whoever else was currently skulking around upstairs was going to be the equivalent of a suicide mission.

I huffed and softly smacked my head back against the bricks behind me. Ivy and I didn't get on. She didn't like me much. Well, to be more specific, she considered me a small frustrating ant that didn't warrant her attention and I didn't have her on my list of bad guys that may snatch me off the street at any moment.

In fact, there were only a few times I had met Poison Ivy, and in all honesty I didn't know nearly as much about her as I probably should. Actually, thinking about it, I could count on one hand the amount of times I had had contact with Ivy.

There was the park last thanksgiving when I had interrupted her while she was working on infecting the pond with a viral fungus that released toxic spores when it came into contact with sunlight. I hadn't meant to disturb her, and I certainly didn't realise Batman had been tailing me since three streets over because of an idle threat from the Joker. She wasn't impressed when he swooped down out of nowhere and cuffed her.

Then there had been outside the grocery store nearly a full year ago, when I had literally run into her as she was trying to avoid the police on foot. She hadn't recognised me until she was being arrested, both of us had been a little confused from the concussions we'd sustained from the full impact with each other, then the ground.

Then finally, the first time I had met her. It was so long ago it seemed like another lifetime.

I remembered it not because it was the first time I had met Ivy, but because it was when my little sister had last come to visit…

* * *

**October-ish 3 Years Ago...**

"I'm so sorry about Mark, sis. He was an asshole anyway. You deserve better."

I rolled my eyes at my little sister but couldn't help the smile that crept onto my lips. It was nice to have her here.

My family lived in a small no name town in the deepest country America had to offer and to this day I couldn't understand the attraction. I had moved out to Gotham shortly after I had turned 18, wanting to experience the big city in all its glory and tired of knowing everyone around me. It had been hard (and still was), but even with all the drama, the kidnapping and the supervillans, I wouldn't dream of going back. Gotham was my home now.

My parents never understood, especially after the Joker incident they had all but begged me to come back to the country with them. Where it was safe, and calm, and the biggest event of the year was when someone lost a chicken or a cow gave birth. Madison, however, had understood and argued my case stubbornly until my parents relented and backed off. Finally taking no to mean NO.

Madison was five years younger than me and had been the trouble child of the two of us. She was as kind as you could get, but she was a bit on the wild side, and often found herself the centre of the rumour mill at home. I always looked forward to when she would come a visit me, and I always enjoyed the wide eyed way she would look at Gotham, excited that there was a place that accommodated and matched her energetic personality.

She was here for her 17th birthday. The way she told it, she had woken up yesterday morning and decided she wanted a little bit of freedom to do as she pleased on her birthday, and getting on a bus to Gotham without anything but a text letting people know where she was, was the best way to get it.

As far as our parents were concerned, I was currently aiding and abetting a fugitive by letting Madison crash on my couch, but I was relieved to have her here. Madison always made me feel better when I was down, and at the moment, I was at the lowest point I'd been in a while.

Mark and I had finally split up. The last few months had been a whirlwind of hellish arguments and tense make ups. Finally, I'd just had enough. The actual break up was a calm conversation over a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Maddie. Its nice to have you here." I grinned at her and took as sip of my hot chocolate, rubbing my eyes tiredly and contemplating the menu.

I was leaning towards the spaghetti special. Pasta was my comfort food.

My phone buzzed urgently on the table top next to us and I jumped, staring at it.

"If that's mum and dad, tell them the answers no again." Maddie laughed, but stopped when she saw the look on my face. I didn't have a good poker face, I had probably lost a few shades of colour in the past second. I snatched up the vibrating little phone and answered it, not bothering to say hello. I listened for a moment, letting the person on the other end of the line talk, then hung up when they were done and set the phone down.

"So…" I said shakily after a moment, smiling at my sister and trying to make it seem like the past few minutes hadn't happened "What do you want to do next?" Maddie raised an eyebrow at me, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh no, no way, you don't get to brush this off like that. That's happened three times since I got here. Now who's calling you?!"

I winced and mulled over how to answer that question, coming up with a whole lot of nothing. Any answer I gave would have Maddie in an uproar of wrathful vengeance and I doubted it would do any good for anyone. I took a deep breath, preparing to lie through my teeth, when there was an almighty crash from somewhere else in the mall and people started screaming.

Maddie and I froze, everyone in the little café did actually as people began sprinting past the beautiful glazed windows outside; tripping over themselves to get away from whatever mysterious danger was behind them.

"What's going on?" Maddie asked, standing from the table and taking a few steps towards the front door.

"Maddie no!" I grabbed her wrist before she could get far and pulled her back, standing and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

I didn't know exactly what was happening, but I knew the panic splashed across the faces of the people running for their lives. I'd experienced it before. Nothing good was going to come around that corner and into view.

Maddie tried to shrug me off but I clamped down hard on her, turning wide eyes to my little sister and shaking my head.

"Not out the front door" I whispered, pulling us further back through the throngs of people now getting up from their tables to investigate. I let go of her just long enough to grab our bags and tried to hide the fact my hands were shaking.

I had to pull it together. For Maddie's sake I had to keep a level head.

I couldn't let her get hurt.

I took a deep breath and seized Maddie's hand, pulling her towards the swinging door that lead into the little kitchen. There was a back door to the café that came out onto the side parking lot. I'd checked when we came in.

It was something I was doing more of now. Checking exits to make sure I could get away quickly.

There was another crash and the front window shattered, something that looked like a huge green tentacle snaking through the razor sharp remains and sending everyone scattering away in terror.

Maddie screamed.

I probably would have as well if my vocal chords hadn't seized up.

The giant green thing raised itself up, its bulk blocking the ceiling light before it crashed down, slamming into the ground like a mini earthquake.

Maddie screamed louder as the shock wave knocked both of us off our feet along with almost everyone else in the café. I scrambled to my hands and knees and grabbed at her, fumbling to get a grip on her jacket and drag her away from the mayhem.

"Maddie come on!" I yelled it and even then I wasn't sure she heard me over the wails of the crowd. Maddie reached out and took a hold of my shoulder, letting me haul her up we got to our feet and bolted for the back room, pushing through the swinging doors and tumbling into the kitchen.

The emergency back door was in sight and I threw myself at it, desperately trying to pull it open.

It didn't budge.

"No!" I slammed into it in case it was one of those 'push' 'pull' moments, then stepped back and slammed into it again. "No, no, no! It's locked!" Maddie was holding so tight to my arm it hurt.

"What do we do?!" She asked, eyes wider then I'd ever seen them go before.

I opened my mouth to answer, tugging at my hair as I tried to think through the haze for something that would get us out of here.

Before I had a chance to say anything there was a groaning sound, like hinges being ripped away from their frame and the hulking green mass began pushing through the door into the kitchen.

It moved so fast, snaking along the ground as more little tendrils rose up from it and curled around the kitchen benches, sprouting leaves and tiny white blooms as it covered everything it touched.

"They're vines…" Maddie whispered from next to me, staring in terrified awe as the realisation hit her around the same time it occurred to me.

One of the smaller vines curled forward and made a grab at Maddie's leg and she squealed, slamming the heel of her boot into it with sharp repeated movements until all that was left was a slop of green mush flipping and twitching on the floor.

Another vine made a grab and I yanked Maddie out of the way, stumbling back and letting out a scream when my hand connected with something burning hot.

"Are you ok?" Maddie asked as she slammed her shoe into another reaching vine. It made an odd squealing noise, thrashing around like it was trying to avoid her.

I turned enough to see what I had scorched my hand on and noticed for the first time the boiling pot of water still perched on the flame of the industrial sized stove. An idea popped into my head.

A stupid, panic induced idea.

"Help me!" I think I screamed it.

I didn't explain the plan, just tugged Maddie's arm and reached for the pot. She saw exactly what I was trying to do and with her help we managed to slide it to the edge of the stove.

With one final push it toppled, sending bubbling hot water and semi cooked spaghetti spewing out over the kitchen floor. Maddie hauled herself onto a free space on counter and I managed to brace one foot on an open drawer so I wasn't ankle deep in the boiling liquid.

The water splashed around, connecting like a tiny wave with the huge vine that was still cracking and expanding into the room and sent it reeling back as the heat burned and shrivelled its more delicate off-shoots.

From somewhere nearby there was a terrifying, otherworldly screech.

I held tight to Maddie and counted two breaths before the back emergency door burst off its hinges and flew across the room, slamming into the opposing wall and making both of us scream.

"Who hurt my baby?!" A woman appeared, fiery red hair and too pale skin, bright eyes and pointed claws on long, elegant hands. The vines curled around her, almost lifting her from the ground as the swirled across her feet like snakes.

Poison Ivy

She spotted us and I forgot how to breathe.

It happened in slow motion. One minute Maddie was in my arms, clinging to me with all the strength she had. The next she was gone, screaming my name as a vine caught her ankle and lifted her bodily across the room.

"Maddie!" Ivy had my little sister wrapped up tight before I could even step down onto the slippery floor and a moment later something connected with my face so hard I saw stars right before I saw the ceiling.

"You're going to pay for hurting my baby" Ivy's voice seemed far away and I lay there, back sopping and hot, head throbbing and nausea blooming in my gut. My vision spun and I wondered if I would ever be able to stand again.

"Katey! Katey help!" I could hear her, I could hear Maddie but I couldn't see her through the haze. I groaned, rolling to the side and gagging when the world rolled with me.

I had to help Maddie.

From here I could see her feet. The tips of the boots I had bought her last Christmas just in the edge of my sight as they floated a foot above the ground, disappearing into a mess of vines.

Ivy's bare feet were in front of her and I could head Maddie gasping.

Ivy was hurting her. Ivy was hurting my little sister.

I had to help Maddie.

The pot we had knocked over was just to my right, I grabbed it by the handle, steadied myself and gave myself just enough time to lock eyes on the mess of tangled red hair that was Ivy's head before I launched up and swung the heavy piece of metal in one go.

All my weight was behind it.

It was gonna leave a bruise…

If Ivy ever woke up.

The mad plant lady dropped like a stone when I connected, the pot making a sound like a gong as it slammed into the side of her head and sent her careening to the floor.

She landed with a heavy thump and all her vines slumped with her.

I dropped to all fours, scrambling to my sisters side as she fought her way out of the now slack green ropes that had been trying to squeeze the life out of her and gathered her up in a hug that probably did a better job of suffocating her than Ivy ever could.

Maddie pushed the last vines away, then collapsed into my hold, sobbing hysterically.

I didn't cry.

I just sat there, holding her too me and stroking her hair. There was nothing but white noise in my head for a long time. Then slowly, ever so slowly, it gave way to a burning feeling in my chest that I recognised after a moment as anger.

I was angry.

We stayed on the floor of the café until the police, and The Batman, arrived.

* * *

I was surprised I had recognised the smell in the room and associated it with Poison Ivy, though Batman had explained to me once that she exuded very distinct pheromones that were meant to be remembered as either threatening or attractive depending on who was on the receiving end. Like a plant attracting bees or warding off something that wanted to eat it.

Maybe that was why it was familiar enough for me to recognise even though I hadn't met her that many times.

I hated thinking about that day. Since then Madison hadn't come to visit me again. We still talked, she still called every other day, but she didn't want to come back to Gotham.

I had gone to see her once of twice in Metropolis when she had moved there, listened to her rave about the attractive man at her work called Clark who was just so utterly sexy in a nerdy kind of way and how annoying it was that he only had eyes for Supermans girl Louis.

But she wasn't ever really the same wide-eyed care free girl after Poison Ivy. She just sort of…lost some of her nerve.

I stared at the vines in distaste from across the room. It always made me upset and angry thinking about this, about how little Ivy had cared about hurting my sister. My family, my little sister who was so wonderful and stupid and excitable. I stood carefully and without really considering how foolish it was made my way over to the little vines and looked down at them.

These days I was always angry, you were either angry, or you were scared out of your wits. Angry was easier to cope with.

But this angry wasn't for me, it was for Madison, and with that thought I jammed the nail I had used on my cuffs as hard as I could into the vines fleshy little green veins.

They squealed and retreated back into the crack they were growing from. I moved back to my corner and sat down. I felt a little childish but I shut that thought up.

Small pleasures Kate, I reminded myself. They make it easier.

**Follies of Fate**

**Chapter 3**

The light flickered on, went dark again, then blinked back through the rim of the door. It did this a couple of times and I had to shut my eyes so I wouldn't get that seasick feeling that strobe lighting tended to give me. Whatever building I was in I was pretty sure it was older than anything I knew of in Gotham. I couldn't think of anything inside the city that sported cellars like this. There were plenty of old warehouses, but the shape and contents of this room suggested a manor or house.

That meant I was probably outside the city limits. Hopefully not too far out. I kept my eyes closed and took a few deep breaths at this realisation. I may have been getting better at getting away from the Joker, but if I was right and I was outside the city, escaping on my own was sounding more and more difficult.

I was lucky I kept my eyes closed, because the light flickered again and shut off completely. I waited a while, then sighed when I realised the light probably wasn't going to come back on anytime soon.

I crouched back close to the wall and lent my forehead against my knees, closing my eyes and regulating my breathing. I'd never truly gotten used to absolute darkness, even having experienced it so many times before. No matter what I would still feel that trill of fear hit me when the lights went out and there was nothing to see. I'd been holding out pretty well since I'd been thrown in here, keeping my mind elsewhere so I wouldn't focus on the fact that I was essentially blind. I just had to make sure I kept breathing carefully. In and out, in and out.

Few people ever experience true and complete darkness. I've had arguments about how disorientating it can be with a number of people throughout the years. I've tried to explain in as many ways as language will allow that the fear comes when you realise you can't see your hands when they're so close to your face you can feel your breath on them. Or than eventually if you start to move around you can actually loose all sense of what's up and what's down, so much so that sometimes it can feel like your suspended in nothingness. I shuddered and pressed further into the wall; I remembered that feeling, that maddening moment when your senses begin to lie to you and you're not sure why the blood is rushing to your head, or if you're actually standing on solid ground.

I remember trying to explain it to a work friend of mine once. She just about drove me crazy with her inability to truly listen to what I was trying to tell her.

_Won't your eyes adjust eventually?_

I smiled slightly at the memory and slowly stretched my legs out, keeping my back flush to the corner I was propped against. In the end, she never came to grips with the concept that there was nothing for your eyes to adjust to. There was no light, so small twinkling of whiteness for your eyes to cling to. But then again, Colleen never really understood much outside gum, men and flirting her way into a bonus.

Breath in, breath out...

There was one thing that could be said as a positive for absolute pitch-black darkness. Without your ability to see, your other senses quickly re worked themselves to pick up the slack. It had been something I had started practicing about a year ago, on the recommendation of the Dark Knight. I just had to make sure I kept focused and relied on what my other senses were telling me. Could I hear anything useful? Was there any strange smells?

I took a deep breath, held it, and listened.

Nothing.

There wasn't a single sound coming from this room. No rats or creepy crawlies anywhere near me, no creaking of wood, no movement of air, and most importantly, not a single sound from behind the door. The room was almost completely silent. I let go of the breath I had been holding and took another one.

Still nothing.

I breathed out.

One of the first things I realised when I started relying more on my hearing was that nine times out of ten, you wouldn't hear the noise you were searching for it you were trying to hear it over the sound of your own breathing. I made the discovery very late one night when I had woken up to the horrifying sound of someone banging through my kitchen. Or at least what I thought sounded like someone in my kitchen. I rolled out of bed and curled myself into the small space behind my door, my heart beating in my ears and my breathing uneven. I had tried to listen, tried to focus on where the sound was coming from, but I hadn't been able to figure it out. So I closed my eyes, and held my breath, thinking that maybe the less sound I made, the harder it would be for whatever or whoever was out there to hear me.

Turned out it also made it easier for me to hear what was going on.

The sound I had heard turned out to be nothing dangerous, just some washing up I had left precariously balanced beside my sink slipping around. But it taught me a lesson, a lesson I had used again, and again, and again throughout the many sleepless nights I spent balanced on the balls of my feet behind my door after being woken by some random noise or movement in my apartment.

I heaved a sigh and tried to focus on the room again. I didn't need a reminder of how tired I was, I already knew all too well.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose this time, trying to identify a smell. It was a long shot. It was a skill that I hadn't refined nearly enough for it to be useful, but I was trying, and with Batmans help I was slowly getting better at it.

Another deep breath.

There was something in the air other than the thick murky smell of stale air and rotting wood. Something organic and sweet that hit the back of my throat after a few more deep pulls through my nose. It smelt like a forest floor, moisture and lichen and rotting leaves with a sweet undertone of something poison.

I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been searching for something out of the ordinary, I would have just assumed the air in the cellar put a bad taste in my mouth.

There was an odd sound too. A cracking noise that was barley audible and could have just been a creepy crawly scuttling around the room. Something from outside the door, soft footsteps padding on stone, the scraping of a chair, then…

 _Pop_. I jumped at the sound of glass breaking and someone swearing loudly outside the door. It was a feminine voice, high and winy and so familiar it sent an involuntary shudder through me. Harley Quinn.

There was a pause and the light outside the door came back on brighter and fiercer than before. I blinked my eyes open wearily and frowned as more soft cursing and chair scraping sounded from outside. Then silence. Fine, if Quinn was outside that was just fine. I could deal with Quinn, and judging by the lack of abusive yelling she was alone. No goons. If she came into the cellar I could be hopeful about living through the experience.

My eyes adjusted to the light and I started squinting into the darker corners of the room, pulling my attention back to the odd smell I had sussed out before Harley had busted the light bulb. The new light bulb I could only assume had replaced the broken one was more powerful and lit the cellar a little better. This was a good thing.

It took me a few moments to spot the cause of the smell, but eventually I did. In the left hand corner of the room, stretching out over the broken wine rack and climbing towards the centre of the wall and roof was a vine. Well, a muddled mat of several vines all intertwining and curling into each other as they pushed their way through the brick. I narrowed my eyes at the little plot of dark green, as the familiarity of it clawed at my memory and I tried to recall why I knew those vines and that smell.

The smell and the plant didn't remind me of _something_ I realised after a long moment. No, it reminded me of someone.

…Poison Ivy

Or more specifically her plants. Each vine or flower she created held that undertone smell of poison and forest floor. It was like each plant she manipulated bled that smell through its sap and life blood.

_Shit_

I stared at the vines, watching far more closely as they curled and continued to grow slowly right before my eyes, pushing with enough strength to crack the bricks they were clinging too. Yep, Ivy was here. No way those little plants could be sprouting the way they were without a little help from 'Red'.

Why would Ivy be here? Joker and Ivy weren't on talking terms. They didn't associate with one another unless it was for a friendly Poker game or it had something to do with Harley. I shook my head, right now that didn't matter.

If Ivy was here…and if she was here on her own free will, all I was going to worry about was how much harder it was going to be for me to get out of here. Joker by himself I might be able to handle if presented with the right opportunity. Ivy, Joker and whoever else was currently skulking around upstairs was going to be the equivalent of a suicide mission.

I huffed and softly smacked my head back against the bricks behind me. Ivy and I didn't get on. She didn't like me much. Well, to be more specific, she considered me a small frustrating ant that didn't warrant her attention and I didn't have her on my list of bad guys that may snatch me off the street at any moment.

In fact, there were only a few times I had met Poison Ivy, and in all honesty I didn't know nearly as much about her as I probably should. Actually, thinking about it, I could count on one hand the amount of times I had had contact with Ivy.

There was the park last thanksgiving when I had interrupted her while she was working on infecting the pond with a viral fungus that released toxic spores when it came into contact with sunlight. I hadn't meant to disturb her, and I certainly didn't realise Batman had been tailing me since three streets over because of an idle threat from the Joker. She wasn't impressed when he swooped down out of nowhere and cuffed her.

Then there had been outside the grocery store nearly a full year ago, when I had literally run into her as she was trying to avoid the police on foot. She hadn't recognised me until she was being arrested, both of us had been a little confused from the concussions we'd sustained from the full impact with each other, then the ground.

Then finally, the first time I had met her. It was so long ago it seemed like another lifetime.

I remembered it not because it was the first time I had met Ivy, but because it was when my little sister had last come to visit…

* * *

**October-ish 3 Years Ago...**

"I'm so sorry about Mark, sis. He was an asshole anyway. You deserve better."

I rolled my eyes at my little sister but couldn't help the smile that crept onto my lips. It was nice to have her here.

My family lived in a small no name town in the deepest country America had to offer and to this day I couldn't understand the attraction. I had moved out to Gotham shortly after I had turned 18, wanting to experience the big city in all its glory and tired of knowing everyone around me. It had been hard (and still was), but even with all the drama, the kidnapping and the supervillans, I wouldn't dream of going back. Gotham was my home now.

My parents never understood, especially after the Joker incident they had all but begged me to come back to the country with them. Where it was safe, and calm, and the biggest event of the year was when someone lost a chicken or a cow gave birth. Madison, however, had understood and argued my case stubbornly until my parents relented and backed off. Finally taking no to mean NO.

Madison was five years younger than me and had been the trouble child of the two of us. She was as kind as you could get, but she was a bit on the wild side, and often found herself the centre of the rumour mill at home. I always looked forward to when she would come a visit me, and I always enjoyed the wide eyed way she would look at Gotham, excited that there was a place that accommodated and matched her energetic personality.

She was here for her 17th birthday. The way she told it, she had woken up yesterday morning and decided she wanted a little bit of freedom to do as she pleased on her birthday, and getting on a bus to Gotham without anything but a text letting people know where she was, was the best way to get it.

As far as our parents were concerned, I was currently aiding and abetting a fugitive by letting Madison crash on my couch, but I was relieved to have her here. Madison always made me feel better when I was down, and at the moment, I was at the lowest point I'd been in a while.

Mark and I had finally split up. The last few months had been a whirlwind of hellish arguments and tense make ups. Finally, I'd just had enough. The actual break up was a calm conversation over a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Maddie. Its nice to have you here." I grinned at her and took as sip of my hot chocolate, rubbing my eyes tiredly and contemplating the menu.

I was leaning towards the spaghetti special. Pasta was my comfort food.

My phone buzzed urgently on the table top next to us and I jumped, staring at it.

"If that's mum and dad, tell them the answers no _again._ " Maddie laughed, but stopped when she saw the look on my face. I didn't have a good poker face, I had probably lost a few shades of colour in the past second. I snatched up the vibrating little phone and answered it, not bothering to say hello. I listened for a moment, letting the person on the other end of the line talk, then hung up when they were done and set the phone down.

"So…" I said shakily after a moment, smiling at my sister and trying to make it seem like the past few minutes hadn't happened "What do you want to do next?" Maddie raised an eyebrow at me, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh no, no way, you don't get to brush this off like that. That's happened three times since I got here. Now who's calling you?!"

I winced and mulled over how to answer that question, coming up with a whole lot of nothing. Any answer I gave would have Maddie in an uproar of wrathful vengeance and I doubted it would do any good for anyone. I took a deep breath, preparing to lie through my teeth, when there was an almighty _crash_ from somewhere else in the mall and people started screaming.

Maddie and I froze, everyone in the little café did actually as people began sprinting past the beautiful glazed windows outside; tripping over themselves to get away from whatever mysterious danger was behind them.

"What's going on?" Maddie asked, standing from the table and taking a few steps towards the front door.

"Maddie no!" I grabbed her wrist before she could get far and pulled her back, standing and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

I didn't know exactly what was happening, but I knew the panic splashed across the faces of the people running for their lives. I'd experienced it before. Nothing good was going to come around that corner and into view.

Maddie tried to shrug me off but I clamped down hard on her, turning wide eyes to my little sister and shaking my head.

"Not out the front door" I whispered, pulling us further back through the throngs of people now getting up from their tables to investigate. I let go of her just long enough to grab our bags and tried to hide the fact my hands were shaking.

I had to pull it together. For Maddie's sake I had to keep a level head.

I couldn't let her get hurt.

I took a deep breath and seized Maddie's hand, pulling her towards the swinging door that lead into the little kitchen. There was a back door to the café that came out onto the side parking lot. I'd checked when we came in.

It was something I was doing more of now. Checking exits to make sure I could get away quickly.

There was another crash and the front window shattered, something that looked like a huge green tentacle snaking through the razor sharp remains and sending everyone scattering away in terror.

Maddie screamed.

I probably would have as well if my vocal chords hadn't seized up.

The giant green thing raised itself up, its bulk blocking the ceiling light before it crashed down, slamming into the ground like a mini earthquake.

Maddie screamed louder as the shock wave knocked both of us off our feet along with almost everyone else in the café. I scrambled to my hands and knees and grabbed at her, fumbling to get a grip on her jacket and drag her away from the mayhem.

"Maddie come on!" I yelled it and even then I wasn't sure she heard me over the wails of the crowd. Maddie reached out and took a hold of my shoulder, letting me haul her up we got to our feet and bolted for the back room, pushing through the swinging doors and tumbling into the kitchen.

The emergency back door was in sight and I threw myself at it, desperately trying to pull it open.

It didn't budge.

"No!" I slammed into it in case it was one of those 'push' 'pull' moments, then stepped back and slammed into it again. "No, no, no! It's locked!" Maddie was holding so tight to my arm it hurt.

"What do we do?!" She asked, eyes wider then I'd ever seen them go before.

I opened my mouth to answer, tugging at my hair as I tried to think through the haze for something that would get us out of here.

Before I had a chance to say anything there was a groaning sound, like hinges being ripped away from their frame and the hulking green mass began pushing through the door into the kitchen.

It moved so fast, snaking along the ground as more little tendrils rose up from it and curled around the kitchen benches, sprouting leaves and tiny white blooms as it covered everything it touched.

"They're vines…" Maddie whispered from next to me, staring in terrified awe as the realisation hit her around the same time it occurred to me.

One of the smaller vines curled forward and made a grab at Maddie's leg and she squealed, slamming the heel of her boot into it with sharp repeated movements until all that was left was a slop of green mush flipping and twitching on the floor.

Another vine made a grab and I yanked Maddie out of the way, stumbling back and letting out a scream when my hand connected with something burning hot.

"Are you ok?" Maddie asked as she slammed her shoe into another reaching vine. It made an odd squealing noise, thrashing around like it was trying to avoid her.

I turned enough to see what I had scorched my hand on and noticed for the first time the boiling pot of water still perched on the flame of the industrial sized stove. An idea popped into my head.

A stupid, panic induced idea.

"Help me!" I think I screamed it.

I didn't explain the plan, just tugged Maddie's arm and reached for the pot. She saw exactly what I was trying to do and with her help we managed to slide it to the edge of the stove.

With one final push it toppled, sending bubbling hot water and semi cooked spaghetti spewing out over the kitchen floor. Maddie hauled herself onto a free space on counter and I managed to brace one foot on an open drawer so I wasn't ankle deep in the boiling liquid.

The water splashed around, connecting like a tiny wave with the huge vine that was still cracking and expanding into the room and sent it reeling back as the heat burned and shrivelled its more delicate off-shoots.

From somewhere nearby there was a terrifying, otherworldly screech.

I held tight to Maddie and counted two breaths before the back emergency door burst off its hinges and flew across the room, slamming into the opposing wall and making both of us scream.

"Who hurt my baby?!" A woman appeared, fiery red hair and too pale skin, bright eyes and pointed claws on long, elegant hands. The vines curled around her, almost lifting her from the ground as the swirled across her feet like snakes.

_Poison Ivy_

She spotted us and I forgot how to breathe.

It happened in slow motion. One minute Maddie was in my arms, clinging to me with all the strength she had. The next she was gone, screaming my name as a vine caught her ankle and lifted her bodily across the room.

"Maddie!" Ivy had my little sister wrapped up tight before I could even step down onto the slippery floor and a moment later something connected with my face so hard I saw stars right before I saw the ceiling.

"You're going to pay for hurting my baby" Ivy's voice seemed far away and I lay there, back sopping and hot, head throbbing and nausea blooming in my gut. My vision spun and I wondered if I would ever be able to stand again.

"Katey! Katey help!" I could hear her, I could hear Maddie but I couldn't see her through the haze. I groaned, rolling to the side and gagging when the world rolled with me.

I had to help Maddie.

From here I could see her feet. The tips of the boots I had bought her last Christmas just in the edge of my sight as they floated a foot above the ground, disappearing into a mess of vines.

Ivy's bare feet were in front of her and I could head Maddie gasping.

Ivy was hurting her. Ivy was hurting my little sister.

 _I_ _had to help Maddie_.

The pot we had knocked over was just to my right, I grabbed it by the handle, steadied myself and gave myself just enough time to lock eyes on the mess of tangled red hair that was Ivy's head before I launched up and swung the heavy piece of metal in one go.

All my weight was behind it.

It was gonna leave a bruise…

If Ivy ever woke up.

The mad plant lady dropped like a stone when I connected, the pot making a sound like a gong as it slammed into the side of her head and sent her careening to the floor.

She landed with a heavy _thump_ and all her vines slumped with her.

I dropped to all fours, scrambling to my sisters side as she fought her way out of the now slack green ropes that had been trying to squeeze the life out of her and gathered her up in a hug that probably did a better job of suffocating her than Ivy ever could.

Maddie pushed the last vines away, then collapsed into my hold, sobbing hysterically.

I didn't cry.

I just sat there, holding her too me and stroking her hair. There was nothing but white noise in my head for a long time. Then slowly, ever so slowly, it gave way to a burning feeling in my chest that I recognised after a moment as anger.

I was angry.

We stayed on the floor of the café until the police, and The Batman, arrived.

* * *

I was surprised I had recognised the smell in the room and associated it with Poison Ivy, though Batman had explained to me once that she exuded very distinct pheromones that were meant to be remembered as either threatening or attractive depending on who was on the receiving end. Like a plant attracting bees or warding off something that wanted to eat it.

Maybe that was why it was familiar enough for me to recognise even though I hadn't met her that many times.

I hated thinking about that day. Since then Madison hadn't come to visit me again. We still talked, she still called every other day, but she didn't want to come back to Gotham.

I had gone to see her once of twice in Metropolis when she had moved there, listened to her rave about the attractive man at her work called Clark who was just so utterly sexy in a nerdy kind of way and how annoying it was that he only had eyes for Supermans girl Louis.

But she wasn't ever really the same wide-eyed care free girl after Poison Ivy. She just sort of…lost some of her nerve.

I stared at the vines in distaste from across the room. It always made me upset and angry thinking about this, about how little Ivy had cared about hurting my sister. My family, my little sister who was so wonderful and stupid and excitable. I stood carefully and without really considering how foolish it was made my way over to the little vines and looked down at them.

These days I was always angry, you were either angry, or you were scared out of your wits. Angry was easier to cope with.

But this angry wasn't for me, it was for Madison, and with that thought I jammed the nail I had used on my cuffs as hard as I could into the vines fleshy little green veins.

They squealed and retreated back into the crack they were growing from. I moved back to my corner and sat down. I felt a little childish but I shut that thought up.

Small pleasures Kate, I reminded myself. They make it easier.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Follies Of Fate**

**Chapter 4**

I needed some sort of weapon.

If I was going to make a run for it anything that would do enough damage to make someone stumble could save my life.

The wine rack would be useless, the wood was so flimsy and any pieces thick enough to be useful were rotted through from years of neglect and decay.

My eyes fell on the barrel I was squeezed up against and I tried to see through the shadows to get a proper look at its base. While the top half of the barrel was just as messy as the wine rack across from me the base structure it was sitting on seemed oddly sturdy. I didn't pause to wonder why, just felt my way along the support planks of wood.

They were dry and when I tapped my fist on them they gave a satisfying 'thunk' instead of a wet listless sound I was expecting from anything wooden down here.

I got to my knees, leaning close and squinting at the four strips of wood about five inches wide each that made up this side of the barrels base. Latching onto the top one with both hands I tugged and was rewarded with a groaning creak but not a lot of movement.

I paused to see if Quinn had heard anything and was going to burst in through the door to shoot me. When she didn't I tugged again, more forcefully this time.

The wood shifted with another creak but didn't come free.

I braced my feet against the lower planks, took and breath and tugged with everything I had.

There was a loud crack and I fell back, the top plank of wood coming with me. I took a moment to lay there and send a few lines of thanks to whatever deity wanted to listen, straining to hear if Quinn had gotten suspicious of the noise.

This time she did.

The door clanked and I hissed out the breath I had been holding, pushing myself up and back into the hiding nook against the wall and the wine barrel. I tightened my grip on the thick stick of wood and wriggled it behind me against the bricks.

"Katey? You alive in here?" The drawl made me wince and I leant forward just a little so I could see the door.

Sure enough there was Harley, her head poking through the opening in the big metal slab with her face distorted by the torch she was shining up over her chin like something out of a horror movie.

"I'm over here." I got a face full of torchlight for my response and pulled back fast behind the barrel again "Jeeze, are you trying to blind me?" The light was redirected at the roof and there was a giggle from Quinn.

"Sorry!" Another giggle from Harley and I inched forward again, enough to see her close the door and sit down against it, grinning at me through her black lipstick, torchlight back under her chin again. I frowned at her but my eyes were drawn to the big handbag caught up on her shoulder. Hope blossomed and I couldn't help the tiniest of relieved smiles that twitched on my face.

Ahhh Harley, thank you for visiting. Thank you so much for supplying my possible tools for escape.

"What do you want?" I asked bluntly, choosing to ignore the look of offence that passed over Harley's face.

"What do ya mean? I can't visit a friend in the slammer with no ulterior motives?"

I raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"No."

Harley looked like she was going to argue then her shoulders dropped and she sighed heavily, slumping against the door.

"Joker and I had an…argument."

I shuffled back to the wall behind the wine barrel, still holding my hands pinned behind my back with the wood plank tight in my fingers. I hoped if she could no longer see me from the door she would come closer so she could talk at me face to face.

"Why are you telling me?" I prompted. Harley made a strangled noise of amusement before there was a shuffling sound and her torch, along with her, shifted into my field of vision. She sat cross legged a few arm lengths away from me, cheeks puffed up in indignation that I should ask such a stupid question.

Bingo. She was almost where I wanted her.

She was silent for a long while before she sighed softly again and lowered her crossed arms to her lap.

"I don't know." Her posture began to change and before my eyes I watched Harley Quin drip away, Harleen Quinzel taking her place in all her board straight posture and perceptive eyed glory.

Once upon a time, I though Harley Quin was just a twisted little henchgirl who had lost her once decent mind.

I knew better now.

Harley Quin was a remarkable and baffling façade plastered on a twisted, venomous version of Harleen Quinzel because Harleen was, at her core, like thousands of women all across the globe. She'd changed herself to better accommodate the man she loved. Sure that man was a psychotic clown, but the principle was the same.

She was a crazy, delusional…but she was still Harleen.

I suspected that was why she couldn't be 'cured'. She didn't need to be, she had chosen her path not out of insanity, but out of love.

Though then again, maybe I was full of shit and I had no idea. You could never tell with Harleen.

"Why aren't you talking to Ivy?" I asked carefully, eyes flicking to the little spot of vines that had started to spread again across the corner of my cell. Harley let out a barked laugh and shook her head, hard eyes narrowing like she was remembering something bitter she'd swallowed recently.

"Red and I had a little disagreement too." She admitted. I shrugged. Good enough explanation for me. Not good enough for Harleen. "She doesn't like Joker."

I snorted. Who, after Harley, did?

One of the first things that had tipped me off about Harley's little dirty secret had been her speech mannerisms. I was surprised no one else had picked up on it. Especially her numerous doctors at Arkham.

She was sitting guarding me during one of Jokers schemes to lure Batman in, and she was obviously angry. I was close enough to hear her mumbling to herself. Presumably she didn't realise I could hear, because she sure as hell wasn't talking like Harley Quinn. Her droll tone was gone, all of her words were perfectly enunciated, and she was referring to the harlequin of hate as 'Joker'. Not Mista J, not Puddin. Joker.

It had been…odd.

The funny thing was that once you picked it, it became glaringly obvious.

She was two different people. She was Harley and she was Harleen. Each version of her had a completely different persona, different posture, different speech pattern, different everything. But Harleen was the one who made the change, it wasn't involuntary and she could flick back and forth like she was turning on and off a light switch.

"She doesn't understand what it's like to love someone the way Joker and I love each other. Our bond transcends usual relationship boundaries into the phenomenal. You understand that bond better than she ever could" Harley continued and I blinked dumbly.

"Why the hell would I understand?" I asked, honestly confused by that last part. Harleen raised a delicate eyebrow and thinned her lips.

"Your relationship with Batman of course."

There was a beat of silence before I threw my head back and laughed. Actually laughed.

"My _relationship_ with Batman?" I asked once the ridiculous idea had settled in. "God Harleen what exactly do you think my _relationship_ with Batman is?" Harleen looked displeased with my laughter but she waved it away with a shake of her hand and a piercing gaze that was obviously honed through years of practice and study into the human psyche.

"You love him. It's clear. And he loves you." She shrugged like this was the most obvious thing in the world and I stared at her, the humour of the situation gone completely, giving way to honest to goodness disbelief.

"Harleen, that's bullshit." I got out, frowning and getting a sick sort of feeling settling in my stomach.

Was that what everyone thought? Was that what all the villains of Gotham thought? I had seen the internet rumour mill spill out this sort of shit repeatedly but I'd never thought anyone who mattered would believe it.

I groaned.

Holy crap. If every bad guy in Gotham was convinced I was the Batman's girlfriend or bed buddy or whatever it was no wonder I had such a huge target on my back.

"How long have you thought that? Who else thinks that?" Harleen shrugged again, a satisfied smile rising on her lips at the slightest of cracks in my voice.

Shit, she might take that as confirmation.

"It's common knowledge. Has been since Halloween."

Halloween? What the fuck happened on Halloween? I stretched my memory back and felt everything suddenly grind to a halt.

The party…Harvey Dents Halloween party. Oh fuck. Of all the stupid shit I'd done in my life I should have known that night would come back to bight me in the ass. Just like the Bat had said it would.

And to think this could have been avoided if I hadn't been so hungry that night...

* * *

**Almost, but not quite 2 Months ago...**

It was Halloween.

I hated Halloween.

I didn't always hate it, I used to love it. It was one of my favourite holidays as a kid. I would dress up and wander around the neighbourhood with my friends, smiling though my face paint as people handed me candy from their doorsteps.

Even when I moved so far away from home I would stock up on tasty treats and share them with the children from my apartment block. Then there was the parties, oh the Halloween parties my old boss threw. He was an ass almost all year round, even at Christmas he would Scrooge the place up with all manner of angry tantrums. But every year, on Halloween, he would throw a party for his staff that would rival even a Bruce Wayne function.

I wasn't going this year...I hadn't been invited this year.

But now I'd started dreading Halloween. I had learned, very quickly, that Halloween was not a good holiday for Kate Strider to engage in. The constant door knocking set my teeth on edge. The gaggles of people streaming through the streets made it hard to hear the little noises I had come to rely on as warnings. The masks had me tensed and ready to run at the slightest hint of hostility.

Who knew which mask was hiding the Joker, or Ivy, or the Mad Hatter? How did you know what the seemingly innocent children at the door were carrying in their little lantern baskets?

Of course, when I tried to explain this to anyone they all called me paranoid. Which was _stupid._ Of course I was fucking paranoid. I'd been beat up, poisoned, kidnapped and attacked more times that I cared to count, what was so bad about trying to avoid it happening again?

I was doing really well too. It had been nearly four months since the last attack. Though, that could have just been because everyone was plotting...that thought alone stopped me from wanting to attend any of the copious amount of parties I had been invited to.

Apparently being associated with Batman made you an auto socialite. Countless people I recognized from the Gotham society columns had invited me to their events, never having met me. It was obvious the idea of having me there was exciting for them, the thought that something might happen to me at one of _their_ parties was 'titillating'.

I sighed and slumped on my couch, eyeing the mound of paper invites on my coffee table. They were all pretty spectacular in a ridiculous kind of way. One envelope had been filled with gold dust; another had Swarovski crystals set into the paper. God only knows how they managed that feat and who had the money to waste on it.

I had run them through the usual security check before I opened them. First a blue light (a trick that had worked surprisingly well for a numerous amount of twisted and disturbing reasons) then a quick explosives and drugs test swab (thanks to the internet) and finally a non-invasive hand held x-ray (Requisitioned from the police labs without their knowledge).

They had all passed the test, which surprised me, especially considering one of them had been from Harvey Dent inviting me to his 'Reformed' Halloween party. The invite called for people to dress up in an outfit that best showed what they aspired to be, seeing as he was aspiring so hard not to be Two Face anymore.

That concept alone was laughable. I could never understand why they didn't just put Mr. Dent on some serious drugs and work some plastic surgery magic on his face. Sure it would be a long drawn out process, but it would be better than pretending therapy would put his shattered mind back together again. Sticky tape didn't work for humpty dumpty, why would words work on Two Face?

Still, it would be nice if it was true, if Harvey really had gotten a handle on his multiple personalities. It would make my nights a little easier to sleep through at the very least.

I would openly admit to anyone who asked that Two Face scared me, possibly more than the Joker did. Though maybe that was just because I had encountered the Joker more than I had Two Face. Maybe it was because I didn't know his patterns of behaviour or how he operated.

I plucked the invite from Dent out of the pile and looked it over again, pulling my legs up on my couch. The party was being held at a nightclub uptown. The expensive, public kind of place that screamed money and was meant to make those of us who didn't have any of it jealous.

Well it worked. I was jealous. Because I didn't have any money and I wasn't going to come into any of it any time soon.

For every single invite I had from socialites clamouring for my presence I had an equal number of rejection letters from companies unwilling to jeopardise their business by hiring someone who was such a liability.

That was me. A liability not worth helping just in case I brought trouble along with me. God, people _sucked_ sometimes.

I let out a pathetic little sigh and rubbed my eyes, head swimming with the depressing figures of my savings account as I tried to calculate how much longer I could live on what was left. Not long, I decided, and with every passing, jobless day that time frame got shorter and shorter. I had paid my rent and scrounged for my bills but I hadn't been able to buy food for weeks.

My stomach rumbled dejectedly to remind me of that fact and I heaved a longer, heavier sigh, hauling myself to my feet so I could make for the kitchen. I set the invite on the bench and swung open the door to my fridge, peering inside.

What I found wasn't a surprise. I had used the last of the milk for the tiny amount of cereal I had left this morning before my day of job hunting and before that I couldn't really remember the last time I'd eaten something decent.

Currently I had a half empty jar of pickles and a slab of butter.

The freezer proved even less helpful since it contained nothing more than a pack of frozen peas that had been in there so long ice had fused it to the wall. But it was all I had so…

I reached in, yanked at it and had a disturbingly slow motion moment as the bag tore clean apart and peas showered out of the freezer all over my kitchen floor. The only reaction I could muster was to swear very badly and exceptionally loudly and slam the damn freezer door shut again, kicking aside the peas from underfoot.

Fuckity-fuck-fucker.

Pickles it was then, since I didn't fancy eating floor peas or butter straight from the tub.

Snatching up the jar I sat up on the counter and opened it, fishing one of the little morsels out and chewing on it meditatively.

I didn't really like pickles. They tasted like vinegar and crunch and not much else. Especially these ones, which I suspected I had owned since I moved to Gotham.

Dents invite caught my eye again and I looked over at it morosely, munching my way through what was going to be dinner for tonight. There was no RSVP date, since I suspected the nightclub could hold however many people showed up. There was a little spiel about how much Mr. Dent would just _adore_ everyone to come along before it got to the super fine print that promised free booze and food for as long as the party lasted.

Hold on…

I read it again, setting down the pickle jar and holding the invite to my nose. Yes, right there, under the address in little gold letters was printed:

_Open Bar and Buffet for All Guests_

Holy crap on a cracker.

My stomach rumbled again and I debated just how stupid and desperate I wanted to be about this. Was my safety and my winning streak for avoiding villains really worth the slight possibility of a good meal and something to drink other than tap water? Could I be that deliriously hungry?

No. That was stupid. So, so stupid.

I jumped off the counter and headed back to the living room, scooping up the other invites and reading them far more carefully to see if any of them promised food too. None of them said it openly and most of them were being held in way, way, way uptown places I couldn't afford to get too. I didn't have money for food, how the hell would I afford a taxi out to one of those estates so far away and so large they had their own zip code?

I could take the subway to the nightclub; I knew the line I would have to use and it let out less than a block away from where Dent was having his party. It would be crazy public, cameras, press, famous big-wig people everywhere and…

No. Jesus Kate _no!_ What was I thinking?!

Months I'd avoided capture, months I'd been safe…

Safe...or just scared and paranoid? Holed up in my apartment and looking over my shoulder every minute when I wasn't in it. Scraping together enough money to keep a roof over my head and terrified of the moment my land lord was going to utter the same words my boss had not so long ago. _Sorry Kate, but you're just too dangerous to keep around._

I chewed my bottom lip and with a sudden surge of confidence stood up and made for my bathroom. I was going to prove something to myself and to Gotham. I was Kate Strider, I was the 'Batman Chick' and I wasn't afraid!

I was just fucking hungry!

It took me an hour to make myself pretty and another hour to find creative ways to hide all the protection I had been collecting for months. A cute bracelet full of pepper spray, a single use stun gun shaped like a tube of lipstick, a double chain necklace that could be clicked together and tightened into handcuffs, a Sig P238 380 ACP Pearl Grip gun that I discovered could be far too easily hidden in an eBay-bought thigh holster. Finally I finished it all off by putting my hair up and using my lock picking tools as decorative hair pins. Surprisingly they looked kind of nice.

I wore kitten heel knee high boots and stashed some zip ties and a flick knife inside them then packed my clutch purse with the last of my cash, my credit card, ID, and the invite to Dents party. I hesitated with my phone, suspicious that it had been as silent as it had been tonight. Usually it rang every couple of hours.

I took it anyway then armed the three alarms I had installed and strode out of the apartment, shoulders back, head up and chin out like I was totally in control.

That confidence lasted two steps down the hall until a bunch of kids jumped out from around the corner in costume and I was pretty sure my heart got close to exploding.

Except it didn't, and the kids didn't do anything but grin at me so I spent the short walk to the subway station alternating between contemplating my stupidity and wondering what type of food Harvey Dent would be serving.

I was hoping they would have those little mini meat balls on sticks. I loved those.

Surprisingly that thought gave me courage (or at least gave my stomach courage) and the train ride was spent thinking about meat balls and martinis and whether the guy two seats down from me looked familiar.

There were quite a few people in costume on the subway, but none of them were heading where I was so when the train eventually slowed into my station it was just me and two tired looking business men who got off. I kept an eye on them but as soon as we got to street level they hurried away in separate directions and I was left to walk the half a block around the corner to the club alone, jumping at every sound.

The club itself was massive and surrounded by more people than I thought logically should have existed in one place, but it was surprisingly quiet with only the trailing notes of classical music ambling out as the door was opened to allow people in.

There was a red carpet flanked by swarms of photographers all calling out at the same time to the very expensive people walking along it.

Thankfully there was another line nearby, one filled with the normals of Gotham milling as they waited to be let in.

I joined that line, pressing my back against the wall and shuffling along with my head down. No one noticed me and the only recognition I got was when I got to the front of the line and presented my invite to bouncer. He looked me over, obviously knowing my face and name but said nothing and stepped aside so I could walk past him into the club.

Just like on the outside the club inside was huge and packed from wall to wall. My heart was pounding like a freight train and I was having trouble breathing as people nudged, elbowed and crowded around me while they moved from the dance floor to the bar or vice versa.

Every time someone bumped me I jumped and I was fast edging towards freaking out. I could feel the paranoia and anxiety weighing on me and I was starting to choke.

This had been such a stupid, _stupid_ idea.

Blessedly the music was calm and slow and easy, but it did nothing to stop my body beginning to shake as someone else apologised loudly for nearly spilling their drink on me as they walked past. Their face was covered with a clown mask.

I nearly threw up.

"Miss Strider?"

I gasped, going tense all over and spinning to face the source of whatever voice had said my name. A scream died in my throat.

Before me loomed Two Face, Harvey Dent, the host of the party. I swallowed hard and my hand twitched towards my bracelet, gripping it and getting ready to squirt it in his face and run.

I must have looked petrified or queasy or something inbetween because Dent held up both hands and took a step back, smiling in what he probably thought was a comforting way.

It wasn't.

Even with the mask that hid the scarred side of his face and the glove that covered his hand I could almost feel the leathery burns pressing into my throat where he'd once had a hold of me.

God I was so _stupid_.

"Miss Strider, I'm sorry I startled you. Please, I mean you no harm." He sounded resoundingly honest.

I didn't believe him.

I glanced around, eyes flicking to the people casually milling as though Two Face wasn't standing right in the middle of them.

"…Hi." I managed to get out, shifting from foot to foot and resisting the urge to bolt. Someone bumped into me and I hunched into myself, twitching away from whoever it was. Dent noticed and stepped in closer than I would have liked, gesturing to a raised platform that was near on empty aside from some very famous people.

I was torn, not willing to be made vulnerable by the lack or surrounding bodies but knowing I wouldn't cope much longer in such a claustrophobic spot. I hesitated then strode for the platform, taking the stairs as confidently as I could and sitting down quickly on one of the plush red couches.

Dent joined me. Blessedly he sat on the other side of the platform but he was looking at me with surprising concern.

"You should have a drink." He said carefully, gesturing to the back of the platform and speaking with a ridiculous level of calm. I wrapped my arms around myself and glanced to the table he was indicating to.

It was covered in food, all manner of nibbly things and fancy looking drinks. There was even a tray of meatballs on sticks.

My stomach growled and I swallowed hard.

"Is it drugged?" I asked as casually as I could manage, looking back to Dent. To his credit he didn't look offended. Actually he just looked a little pained.

"No." He said softly, shaking his head. "If it sooths your nerves any…" He trailed off and pointed over the sea of people shifting around the club to a group of men in police uniform pacing the room. I scanned the faces and picked out quite a few I recognised, the most obvious one being Police Commissioner Gordon, who was eyeing everything with suspicion.

I swore and ducked in my seat.

"Crap!" I hissed out, probably making a fool of myself and getting a few very strange looks as I dropped to my knees and knelt on the floor, peeking over the lush red chair to see if the Commish had spotted me.

I glanced back at Dent, who was looking perplexed.

"Miss Strider…what?"

I peeked over the chair again and winced when Commissioner Gordon glanced out way.

"If he sees me he'll tell Batman I'm here." The words came out of my mouth before I considered them and I went stiff, doing a good impression of a cod-fish at how _stupid_ I could have just managed to be.

Not only did I just bring Batman into the conversation with a recently released Asylum patient with a fixation on him but I also managed to convey how 'unsupervised' I was by said fixation.

Dent chuckled, bafflingly, and waved the other socialites back to what they were doing before he joined me on the floor.

I stared at him and he shrugged.

"If you're going to have a floor party I think I should join you. No doubt it will be more entertaining than what tonight's shaping up to be." He pointed to the socialites on the same platform as us and whispered conspiratorially. "These people have always been boring."

I actually smiled. Though it wasn't because I was happy or found the situation amusing. It was something to do with my face other than look like a fish forgetting to close its mouth.

I wondered if this was what Harvey Dent was like before his accident. He must have been charming, considering how quickly he rose in his career.

It was terrifying to think he could fake this charming façade well enough to get himself out of Arkham.

It was also terrifyingly _weird_ to be chilling on the floor with him like we were casual friends at a slumber party. He didn't seem to notice that I was trying to meld back further into the lounge seat.

"Now. How about that drink?" He asked with another smile. I blinked and watched as Dent made a show of standing and heading across the platform. He grabbed two sealed bottles of very fancy, very expensive water and strode back with a confidence that made me wince. He handed one to me and ignored the baffled looks from our fellow platformers when he slumped back onto the floor.

All I could think as he smiled at me from behind his white half masked face was: _what the fuck is happening?_

I looked over the water carefully before cracking it open and taking a sip. It tasted better than tap water that's for sure.

"Thank you." I said cautiously. Dent smiled back.

"I didn't think you'd take anything already opened from me." He admitted.

I nodded, agreeing that he was very, very right. We sipped our water in silence and I kept my eyes firmly on everything _but_ him, just waiting for someone to jump out and try to grab me while Two Face laughed manically.

Instead all I got was Dent fiddling with a loose thread on his gloved hand and looking steadfastly at me.

This was just so creepy and strange. I didn't quite know how to react.

"You don't trust me." I jumped, snapping my attention back to Dent and trying to stifle the admission in my head that with the scarred side of his face covered he could have passed as good looking. If you didn't know the horrors he hid under it.

"No." I admitted firmly. "It's hard to trust a man who used you as a meat shield while his goons shot up the cops." I didn't say it with nearly enough venom, it actually just came out like I was recounting a bad weekend I would have rather forgotten.

Dent winced, rubbing his hands over the bottle of water and nodding.

"Yes. Not one of my…better life choices" He nodded to himself, looking once again far to regretful for a mad man. I just snorted at his understatement of the century. "If I may pry Miss Strider, why are you here then? Since you obviously don't trust me?"

I swallowed some more water and couldn't help my eyes flicking back to the table laden with food. My stomach growled louder and I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Being associated with Batman doesn't leave me in the black much" I muttered out, drinking some more water.

Dent seemed puzzled, then he followed my eyes to the food and I could have punched him for how sympathetic his next look was.

"Ah." He frowned and drank some more water, I drank some more water. We avoided looking at each other until he spoke again. "Take as much as you want."

I struggled with the rage that shot through me but I couldn't stop myself from glaring at him.

"I don't need your sympathy." I spat out, relishing the way anger so quickly dissipated the nerves and anxiety in me. Where once I would have cried, now I just got angry. "You're one of the ones who put me here."

I had expected Two Face to hit me for that. I expected the sharp sting across my face that would make my ears ring and my jaw ache for days. The hit never came, instead Harvey Dent stared back at me, face pained.

"I know." He said softly, guiltily. "That's why…" He rolled the water bottle around in his hands some more. "That's why I invited you, it's the only reason I came to speak to you when you came in. I didn't think you would have anything to do with me but I had…hoped…I would get a chance to apologise"

I was so floored by what he'd said I nearly spilt the water on myself. As it was I just choked on it, spluttering and trying to make myself breathe properly. Dent looked like he wanted to help me, but refrained since he probably guessed I would break his nose.

"I…ah…" I coughed some more then composed myself. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Nothing. I know it's not that simple." Dent cut me off and I clenched and unclenched my jaw a couple of times.

"No." I said firmly, eyeing him. "It's not."

Harvey Dent nodded, then his eyes trailed over my head and he smiled a little too wide for my liking. I followed his gaze and winced up at the be-speckled face of Commissioner Gordon.

"Good evening, Kate." He said it with all the formality that would be expected of the Commissioner of Police but I could see the confusion behind his carefully constructed civility. I had no doubt the confusion had to do with Harvey Dent and myself sitting on the floor in the middle of a high-to-do fancy dress party.

"Hi Jim." I tried to smile but it came out like a grimace. The Commish headed up the steps so he was standing on the platform between us, looking down at both of us with raised eyebrows.

"I'm surprised to see you here. I thought perhaps you would be home tonight." He said carefully.

"Yeah. Well, what can I say? I needed a change of scenery" That anger came back and I shrugged, looking away dismissively. Jim gave me a look that loitered somewhere between fatherly concern and sympathy and I drank some more of my water, finishing the bottle and pointedly ignoring him.

"Miss Strider and I were just chatting Commissioner." Dent interjected, standing from his lounging spot on the floor and smiling charmingly. I chose to ignore him too.

"Do you think that's wise Mr. Dent?" There was a protective note to Gordon's voice and I sighed.

"Probably not." I declared loudly, pushing myself back into the conversation. "But don't worry Jim, I was just about to leave. I had a stupid reason for coming anyway." I stood, surprised when Dent reached down and helped me up by my elbow. I flinched and the Commissioner put a steady hand on the bulge of his gun hidden under his suit jacket.

Dent stepped back quickly.

"Well. If you're leaving, at least take a party favour with you." Dent strode to the table at the back of the platform and returned a moment later with a silver tray piled high with all the fancy little nibbly things and meatballs on sticks. I eyed it hungrily.

I saw Gordon going to protest and I snatched the tray from Dent before he could, feeling a little victorious when the smell hit me and made my stomach grumble again. "Thank you" I said loudly, then turned and made for the exit.

The Commissioner stayed hot on my heels all the way out of the club and I ignored the odd looks from everyone at the tray I was bringing out with me.

"Why were you on the floor?" He asked after a long moment of silence that was filled only with soft classical music and people getting out of my way. I shrugged.

"I was trying to avoid you seeing me because, frankly, you'll tell Batman." I left that hanging and ate a meatball as we waited for the bouncer to open the door. It was a damn good meatball. "As for Dent, I don't know. It was...weird?" It came out more like a question right at the end because I wasn't sure if there was a better word to describe the odd 'floor-picnic'.

"We only want to keep you safe" He said eventually, seeming to ignore the second part of my statement. I got angry again and rounded to tell the Commissioner exactly what I thought of his plan to keep me safe but stopped short when I saw the look on his face.

He looked so tired.

I reworked the words in my head and eventually could only come up with one thing to say.

"I know" I sighed out, slumping a little and eating another meatball.

When we got to the street I turned towards the subway entrance but Gordon stopped me with a gentle hand on my elbow.

"At least let me get you a police escort home, Kate. I have no idea why you came tonight but at least let me make sure you get back safe." I pursed my lips, considered it, then let my shoulders slump and nodded.

"Ok. Thanks, Jim." He reached out and squeezed my shoulder before he waved at a uniformed officer nearby.

A police car pulled up very shortly after that and Gordon shepherded me into the back seat, giving the officer in the drivers seat my address.

"Don't worry. He's one of my guys. You'll be fine." Jim muttered to me before he closed the door. I said my thank you, buckled up and ate my tray full of food on the way back.

Everything on the tray was the greatest thing I have ever tasted in my life and by the time we pulled up to my apartment block it was gone and all I was left with was a shiny silver tray that actually _was_ silver. I was thinking maybe my idea to go to the party wasn't quite as stupid as I had thought.

The officer offered to walk me up, but I declined, not willing to allow anyone I didn't know anywhere near my front door. Even if they were part of Godon's team.

I really was paranoid.

I trooped up the stairs, disarmed my alarms, locked the door behind me and was feeling pretty smug about my evening out right up until my pulse was pounding in my ears and I was bracing for an attack.

It took me a beat to figure out the source of the shot of adrenaline and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up from the unmistakable feeling of someone who wasn't meant to be in my space, being _in my space_.

I scanned the apartment and sucked in a breath at the dark flutter of curtains by the side window leading out to the alley.

There, silhouetted in the streetlight but otherwise hidden in the shadows of my dark apartment was the Batman. Looking as dangerous and devilish as ever.

I cursed, loudly, and flicked the light on.

Then I cursed again.

Batman was looking directly at me and from where I was standing I could see the little ringlets of shattered spotting all over the right side of his face. His mask was cracked, the curve of his right eye suddenly void of the tinted glass that always hid him.

For the first time in my life I could see a small sliver of the man behind the mask and his eye was a starling, disturbingly deep shade of midnight blue.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, walking into my living room fully and dropping my bag on the coffee table.

His cape was ripped up too and if I wasn't mistaken there were a few impact marks on his chest that could only have come from several poorly aimed bullets. Good to know the Dark Knight was out there on the mean streets working I guess.

"I came to make sure you were alive." He sounded pissed, his voice low and dark. Or maybe his jaw was broken. It was bruised impressively.

"Well I am. Mission accomplished. Did Gordon call you?" I put the silver tray on my kitchen table and wondered how much it was worth. I was going to sell it. Good manners be damned I was going to sell it.

"Why did you go to Harvey Dents Halloween party?"

Ahh, there we go. He ignored my question but went straight to the point and answered it without actually answering it. There was no way the Commissioner _hadn't_ called him. I sighed long and hard and decided I was going to expedite this conversation by being brutally honest.

I was tired. It had been a long night. Successful, since my stomach was fuller than it had been for weeks, but a long night none the less and I'd had about enough of strange conversations.

"I was hungry _._ " I declared, pulling off my coat and beginning the process of removing all my weapons. Batman had the decency to look perplexed for half a second before his lips curled to something like a snarl.

" _What_?" His voice was like gravel. Like someone dragging a bag of gravel over glass. It was unpleasant. I faced him down with my shoulders squared and my hands on hips.

"I have no food. I was hungry." I said it again, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I took out my gun, setting it on the table along with my zip ties and the knife then unlatched my necklace and bracelet.

The Bat's one blue eye narrowed.

"You jeopardized your safety for _food?_ "

Anger shot through me and I found myself suddenly wishing I had something close to hand that I could throw at him.

As it was I didn't think I'd get much distance out of my coffee table which was the only thing tossable in my sparse living room.

"Oh! And what would you know?!" I glared, pulling my shoes off and flopping down onto my couch so I didn't start considering the coffee table seriously. I could feel salty wetness prickling in my eyes and I scrubbed at them, knowing I smeared by mascara and eyeliner all over my face in the process. "I got laid off because I was too much bad publicity and I don't have any money left. No one wants to hire me." I didn't bother getting up to show the state of my fridge. I just sat there and gestured to the empty kitchen. "So I have no food."

I didn't need his disapproval. I'd been tough for months. I'd been careful and worked my ass off to keep myself out of trouble. And what had it got me?

A disturbing amount of people who knew my face and an empty bank account. I dropped my head into my hands, heaving a sigh but glad at least that the dampness in my eyes hadn't turned into full blown tears. I had no desire to cry.

"I not telling you because want your sympathy." I said suddenly, opening my eyes and looking up at him. His lips were tipped into a small frown and I was caught off guard once again by the far too blue eye that peered out at me from behind his cracked mask. "What happened to you anyway?" I saw a change of subject and jumped on it.

Batman shifted from the spot near the window where he'd been standing like a statue since I came in and I noticed his limp.

"Joker." He said simply, pulling out a chair from my kitchen table and sitting stiffly. I watched him, mildly concerned as to how badly hurt he was if he'd decided to take a seat. I'd never seen him sit down before, it was remarkably human and I almost found the sight humorous considering how big he looked in my frail little chair.

"Did you get him?" I asked. Batman just nodded with a grunt and I let out a little laugh. "That explains it then." I reached for my bag and yanked out my mobile phone, tossing it in the vigilante's general direction.

Of course he caught it; his reactions quicker than mine would ever be even when he was so obviously injured. I watched him turn it over in his hands, waiting a moment before answering the questing he was about to ask.

"Joker knows my phone number again." I said as calmly as I could. "Usual gag. He's been pranking me since he got out of Arkham. Just like _every_ bloody time he gets out of Arkham." All the way back to the first time my sister visited. I glared at the floor. "He calls, tells me the time, laughs and hangs up. If I don't pick it up, he keeps calling. If I turn off my phone he just leaves messages that get progressively more demeaning and aggressive." I started pulling the lock picks out of my hair.

"The police just say they're doing everything they can and before you ask, yes, I've changed my number and phone twice. I had considered getting rid of it altogether but its hard enough finding a job. Having no way for them to contact me makes it near impossible" I couldn't help my sneer "And I don't have any way to contact _you_ to ask for help."

I had a sudden urge to scream. I wanted to scream at the Batman about how angry I was, angry at him because he was allowed to run around Gotham as a vigilante and still keep the anonymity of his everyday life. While I was left to be the target in a relentless onslaught of bad guys and asylum escapees. I wanted to scream about how angry I was at the Joker, how I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to scream at my ex-boss and my ex-boyfriend and my ex-family and every fucking person on the street who saw my face and whispered behind their hands as I walked by them.

"So yeah. I went to Dents stupid party because I was _hungry_. And you know what? He was an absolute gentleman. He even apologised! We sat on the floor…It was creepy." Batman tucked my phone into his utility belt and I resigned myself to getting another one and changing my contact details on my resume _again._

Fuck.

"Alright. I'll sort it out."

I jumped a little and stirred from my angry haze as Batman's overly deep voice rose into the silence. I searched his one visible dark blue eye for sincerity and found myself nodding.

"Yeah. Well…" More silence and after a beat he took it as his cue to leave. His dark cloaked figure went to stand, struggling to his feet with a grunt as making for the window he'd come through. At some point between leaving the chair and straightening up something in his side crunched and he crumpled forward in a sudden jerking movement, huffing and trying to balance himself.

I was at his side before I thought it through, tucking myself under his arm and pushing up to support as much of his bulk as I could manage.

It wasn't much.

"Whats wrong?" I asked, glad I'd taken my heels off as I stumbled a little under his weight. His blue eye flicked to me and his jaw tightened, his lips thinning to a tight line.

"Knife." His hand was resting on the side I was pressed against and I looked down to see the spots of red that were spreading their way across my white dress. I cursed.

Another dress ruined. This was why I wasn't allowed to have nice things.

"Come on." I grumbled, hauling as hard as I could towards my bedroom, again without thinking it through. Batman resisted but I must have shot him a look so full of ice and fury that he went a little stiff and mutely allowed me to help him into the tiny room and onto my single bed.

I drew the blackout blinds and curtains then looked over at him.

"What do I do?" I asked simply, crossing my arms over my chest and trying hard not to show my discomfort.

I had learned (though necessity) minor first aid. I could stitch cuts, clean them down. I'd even pulled a bullet out of someone's shoulder before but that was a whole other story. I still wasn't comfortable with it but I doubted Batman would like my suggestion of a hospital and as it was he looked about ready to fall back onto the bed and stop moving for good.

Batman heaved a slightly shaky breath and pulled something from his utility belt, holding it out to me.

"Seal it. I can't reach. Point and hold the red button." I took the little cylinder and knelt beside the bed, poking around at the Kevlar until I found the cut. I ignored his grunt of discomfort when I pulled the tough fabric back as much as possible so I could see the nasty jagged gash and clicked my tongue. Damn thing was deep.

As instructed I pointed the top of the cylinder at the end of the cut and held down the red button on the other side. Something that looked like sealant foam spluttered out and with a few quick passes I'd covered the gash in the stuff, watching as it hardened and seemed to contract.

Batman hissed then we both went quiet.

"You should stay put for a bit until you're ok" I said eventually, pushing myself up and handing back the cylinder. "I'll bring you some pain killers"

I went to leave but was drawn up short when Batman reached out and gripped my wrist. I stopped and looked down at his big black covered fingers clasped around my seemingly tiny hand and waited for whatever it was he was going to say.

"Thank you."

I blinked, looking up at him and rolling those two little words around in my head some more.

Some of my anger at the world leeched out and my shoulders slumped under the pressing gaze of that one visible dark blue eye.

"You're welcome."

* * *

The article on the front page of the Gotham Times the next morning read: _"Batman Apprehends The Joker"._

The picture of the Joker was messy. His face a mash of purple, blue, red, green and white, basically every colour know to the bruising spectrum. It was the worst Batman had ever worked over his arch nemesis, and I felt absolutely no sympathy for the twisted clown.

But the biggest surprise of that morning was taped to the sliding door leading out to my balcony. It was a small black mobile phone. Not mine. But it had all my numbers in the contact book, and all my pictures in the files, and there was a single new text message from a number listed only as 'B'. It read:

' _For emergencies only'_

I can still remember the smell of that morning. Still feel the weight of that phone in my hand as I held it for the first time, my feet cold on the tiles of my balcony.

That phone had been a life line that I knew would both save me and damn me. I didn't doubt it was a way for the Dark Knight to track me and I had almost pitched the damn thing onto the street below.

But I didn't.

"We had eyes on your place" Harleen commented smugly. "Batman got my Joker but he didn't get me. I followed him. I was too banged up to do anything about it but I followed him to see where he went and he went straight to you. Got a call from Jim Gordon and headed right to your window. Stayed at your apartment all night."

I was feeling an interesting mix of sick and angry. I wasn't going to show her how disgruntled I was to know she had been out there watching me that night and I wasn't going to let anyone in on the damage they had done to the Dark Knight. It would make him human, defeatable, and if it got back to the Joker (which with Harley it would) he would no doubt take it as a feather in his cap. It would boost his confidence.

Joker didn't need a boost to his confidence.

Nothing had ever happened between Batman and I. I'd brought him the pain killers then crashed on my couch until well into the next morning, struggling up to see if he had left. He had.

Harleen obviously took my silence as my admission because she was grinning wider and wider. Blessedly though she didn't ask me anymore questions. Instead she just started talking about her argument with The Joker, ranting on about how insensitive he was, and how silly the idea was and how it wasn't going to work.

I knew this might have been important information to have but Harleen was careful not to let any actual details slip in, so after a while it was just the same old rhetoric about how mean her boyfriend was to her.

I tuned out.

It went on for quite a while and I started to think about meatballs on sticks and how I could really go for some right now.

"Well. Thanks for listening Katey!"

I shook myself out of my slight daze and blinked at her as Harleen began to disappear and Harley took her place. "Gotta say I can always count on you! You're such a good listener." She grinned a little madly and tilted her head. "Maybe you should be the shrink!"

I shook my head.

"Wouldn't want to end up like you." I said honestly, shrugging. Harley's eyes narrowed but otherwise she didn't openly show that she'd even heard me.

Instead she stood and bushed some of the dirt off her costume, checking herself to make sure everything was where it was meant to be before she grinned manically.

"You know I have to ask Katey, because I just _have_ too…" She clasped her hands behind her back and leant forward so her face was very almost within reaching distance of me. I eyed her off, feeling a slow trickle of adrenaline begin to pump in my veins at her posture.

This could be it. Deep breath Kate. Don't fuck this up, just be ready. I shifted under her gaze, bringing my legs in so they were crossed before me and moving my hands along the plank of wood hidden behind my back.

Harley brought a hand out from behind her and tapped her lips, smiling far too wide.

"Whats it like? Being I bed with the Batman?"

I barely heard the question, I saw my opportunity as he face twisted into what was no doubt going to be a laugh and snapped myself forward so fast the muscles in my legs groaned in protest.

I brought the wooden plank up and around, giving myself just enough time to get a proper grip on it like I was holding a baseball bat before I swung.

I caught a surprised Harley in the chin, snapping her head aside so fast I could almost hear her brain slap into her skull as she stumbled. She swayed and went to reach for something in her bag but I was already up and she was already concussed.

I swung again, this time taking her hard in her temple with enough force to knock her off her feet. She turned rag doll mid-air and landed with a slack 'thump' to the dusty floor of the cellar.

I heaved in air, shaking and waiting with the wooden plank poised to see if she would get up again.

She didn't.

I laughed a mildly hysterical, incredibly breathless laugh.

* * *

 


End file.
